sailboat dismasted

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Dismasted at sea: What to do during and after a dismasting

September 30, 2019

Losing your mast is one of the worst things that can happen during an ocean crossing – bluewater veteran Susan Glenny explains what to do after a dismasting

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When the Hallberg Rassy 46 Lykke dismasted during the 2017 ARC, the spinnaker pole was drafted in as a jury mast to support a light and VHF aerial

During the 2017 Rolex Fastnet Race , my yacht Olympia ’ s Tigress , a Beneteau First 40, lost her rig through a simple split pin failure.

We were 40 miles offshore at the time, with a trained but inexperienced charter crew on board. It was blowing a Force 6 and the middle the night. The following are some of the lessons we learned from the incident.

Just before midnight I went down below after my watch, having just come off the helm. I heard shouting from on deck and the first mate calling: “Sue, get on deck now – the shroud’s gone!”

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Olympia’s Tigress setting off in the 2017 Rolex Fastnet Race, before the rig failure. Photo: Carlo Borlenghi

I rushed to get my lifejacket back on and pulled myself up the companionway. Looking out I could see that the V1 rod from the port side of the rig had detached completely at the first spreader. The rod was still attached at the deck chainplate but was arched over and dragging in the water. I turned to the helmsperson and shouted: “Whatever you do, don’t tack.”

We were upwind on starboard tack beating into a moderate to rough seaway, and if you were looking at the rig fully loaded from the starboard side you could have been fooled into thinking all was well.

But this was just the start – it would be ten hours before yacht and crew made it safely to land. For myself and four other crew, who’d just spent a full four hours on watch on deck, this was to be particularly exhausting.

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running-aground-nada-rio-minho-anchored-off-credit-nigel-calder

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My first plan was to try to keep the yacht stable under sail as we were closer towards land – and potential rescue – on the starboard tack. I called Falmouth Coastguard from our satellite phone and explained that we had a major rig failure; they contacted the Irish Coast Guard on our behalf. They also advised us to have our EPRIB on deck.

From midnight until around 0130 we sailed on starboard tack to get closer to land, but progressively got knocked and were no longer laying the Irish coast.

We managed to sail about 15 miles further inshore before, as predicted, the wind began to back. Soon we were no longer laying even the Fastnet Rock.

dismasting-advice-olympia-tigress-fastnet-race-2017

Safe after a lifeboat tow back to port, but Olympia’s Tigress had lost her mast above the first set of spreaders

At this point, around 0200, and two hours after we first noticed the issue with the shroud, I decided we needed to down sails and be prepared for whatever was going to happen to us next.

At first we tried to stabilise the rig using halyards as we motored towards Kinsale, but it quickly became apparent how completely unstable the whole rig was.

The flexibility of the aluminium mast was quite terrifying and in the rolling seaway the top of the mast was swaying up to 3-4m from the centreline. This caused ricocheting of the stabilising halyards from the deck and the noise was deafening, like a huge recoiling spring.

dismasting-advice-class-40-phor-ty-credit-carlo-borlenghi

The Class 40 Phor-ty lost her rig during the same race – these aerial shots reveal the dangerous tangle of lines, rigging, sail and mast across the deck and cockpit. Photo: Carlo Borlenghi

I was extremely concerned about having anyone on deck because it was apparent that the rig was eventually going to come down.

Having no windward force on the rig, as you would do when sailing, meant the rig’s movement and which way it would fall was also totally unpredictable.

Thunderbolt crack

I sent all the crew below and slowed the boat speed to 3 knots. We were in contact with the Irish Coast Guard by satellite phone and limited VHF.

The Courtmacsherry lifeboat had been mustered in case the broken spar holed the boat.

At 0420 the yacht rolled violently to port in a big wave and, as we rolled back to starboard, the mast cracked with a sound like a thunderbolt.

It fractured cleanly at the first spreader level and fell to the starboard side, taking out all of the guard wires and damaging the deck.

The standing rigging on the port side was already compromised but the rig remained attached by the starboard V1 rod, the forestay rod and the backstay, which was Dyneema.

What followed was an extremely stressful 25 minutes of cutting the rig away, trying various methods, because you never knew what was going to work until it did.

The crew worked in groups on different parts of the rig, and we had the liferaft prepared to deploy in case the spar ruptured the hull.

The second mate had climbed what remained of the rig to cut the wires from the mast. What I remember most clearly is that absolutely everyone on board was waiting for instruction on what to do next.

The hardest part was the determination required to sever the highly loaded and arched rod rigging. The V1, with the rest of the rig, was moving up and down with the seaway and it felt like a miracle when we managed to saw it off – it was just brute force sawing with a hacksaw that got rid of it.

A hacksaw should deal with a felled forestay – but be aware that rigging under tension can whiplash unpredictably when cut

Next we removed the forestay by unscrewing the bottle screws and lastly freed the backstay.

Five-hour ordeal

At 0445 the rig sank. There was silence on board; no one said a thing for at least a minute. We were all in total and utter shock after a five-hour ordeal.

I first established if everyone was OK. Our youngest crew member had a metal shard in his eye resulting from the flying sparks of an angle grinder, while my second mate had taken a serious blow in the face as he detached the forestay from its fixing; the rod had ricocheted into his face. So we began tending to the injuries.

By 0500 the RNLI lifeboat arrived on the scene. They first checked with us that the rig had sunk, and we communicated with them through visual signalling and limited coms on a handheld VHF radio – the fixed VHF antenna went with the mast.

At this stage we were still 25 miles offshore – we were happy to motor to Kinsale or Cork but the lifeboat crew deemed it better to tow us given our lack of VHF and associated electrics. The stability of the yacht was also severely compromised without the mast.

It took four hours under tow to reach Ireland from 0530-0930. My first mate, Cath, and I alternated the helming watches for this period and allowed the crew to sleep.

I remember it being bitterly cold and us both trying to shield each other in turn from the wind exposure being generated from the fast tow – the cold was possibly exacerbated by the fact we were both tired and utterly burnt out.

Many thanks to my amazing crew that night: Cath, Willy, Felix, Simon, Gina, Matt, Conor, Fiona and Luke. Each and every one of them played a vital role in bringing our vessel back to land.

Many thanks also to Maritime Rescue Co-ordination Centre at Falmouth, the Irish Coast Guard and the Courtmacsherry lifeboat and crew.

What to do after a rig loss

Communicate the situation as early as possible (in our case we were able to do this before the rig came down) with a Pan Pan call to a coastal radio station. This can either be through satellite phone or VHF radio, but remember as soon as you lose your rig you are also likely to lose your VHF aerial and radio communications. For us having a satellite phone was key.
If you have spars in the water, get your liferaft and grab bags ready to deploy within 15 seconds. Have all the crew in lifejackets and waterproofs if they are not already.
It’s likely that even after failure the rig will still be attached to the vessel via three standing rig points. For example, the port side failed on Olympia ’ s Tigress , but the rig was still attached via the forestay, the backstay and the starboard V1 rod. As soon as the rig has broken, split the crew into three teams to work on each area, and make sure you have three sets of whatever cutting gear you are using. You don’t want a jagged mast hanging around in the water next to you any longer than necessary. Nor do you want to successfully cut two points away, only to find the sinking rig dragging your bow down at the forestay (yes, that happened to us).
On a safety checklist you may have to tick a box saying you have tested your rig cutting gear on a piece of material similar to that in your rig. However, you also need to ask yourself whether the cutting gear will work in the same way when the rig, rods or Dyform wires are moving up and down in a rough seaway, all in different sync to the boat’s movement. We’d always thought that having an angle grinder was the answer to cut away all rigging but we discovered we were wrong. With the rig moving it was very difficult to cut a groove in the rod. It also produced sparking and metal files, one of which flew into a crew member’s eye.
Carry multiple pairs of goggles in your rig-cutting bag to prevent eye injury.
Carry multiple cutting methods. We found that with rods the only thing that worked was brute force, cutting a groove with a standard high quality hacksaw, we had replacement blades and three hacksaws so were able to have new blades and saws ready rapidly, so as to have no delays in the cutting.
Before heading to sea, think through any other methods you could use to detach stays and shrouds, for example removing pins or unscrewing bottle screws. It didn’t apply in our case, but I did realise the complexity that would be added by having a furling headsail system. Make sure you are familiar with how to remove a furler from the deck and have the tools on board to do this.
If you have a period of time – as we did – with an unstable mast that has lost its structural integrity, use halyards to triangulate it to strong points on the deck. This might be more effective in a calm sea but for us the pre-break movement in the rig at the top (4-5m of sideways flexing) was scarily powerful. Before the mast broke, the ricocheting of the halyards thanks to the enormous flexing of the rig caused damage to the glassfibre at the deck mountings.
Protect crew wherever possible; if the mast is going to come down there is less risk in having one person on deck than full crew. I stayed on deck alone while we attempted to motor towards Cork. The crew stayed ready below, formulating a plan for cutting the rig and communicating with the coastguard.
When the rig comes down, if you can be sure the prop is free of lines try to manoeuvre the yacht under engine so the rig is down-sea and away from the hull.

dismasting-advice-hallberg-rassy-46-lykke-arc-2018-credit-stephan-muhlhause

The Hallberg-Rassy 46 Lykke dismasted during the 2017 ARC. Even after the rig had been cut away, the damaged guardrails, stanchions and metalwork create a hazard on deck. Photo: Stephan Mühlhause

Dos and Don’ts

Do: Preserve everything you can – boom, lines, sails, blocks, clips etc. Rig loss claims are huge: ours was a £55,000 claim which didn’t include the boom or sails that we’d managed to conserve. Much more and the insurer would have considered writing the boat off.
Do: Write an extensive plan of how you would get rid of your rig and talk through this plan in your crew safety briefing. Preassign roles to each person.
Don’t: Be reticent in making rescue organisations aware of the situation. If a broken rig spar is going to go through the hull then help being on the way is better earlier than later.

Can you use rig cutting tools with one hand or will you be unable to hold on? Hydraulic cutters may be easiest.

Rig cutting options

Hacksaws and multiple spare blades – highly effective on rod rigging
High quality bolt croppers – effective on Dyform, but not effective on rods
Hydraulic bolt croppers – effective on Dyform and rods
Explosive rod and spar breakers – difficult to obtain in the UK
High quality angle grinder – potentially useful for cutting rods and Dyform, but were found to be quickly effective on sails and Dyneema!
Sharp, deck mounted safety knives
High quality scissors

About the author

Susan Glenny is a commercial Ocean Yachtmaster and is school principal of Tigress Sport Sailing. She has skippered four transatlantic races and many offshore and inshore events in the Caribbean, Europe and Mediterranean. She leads Team Tigress and The Sirens Racing.

Dismasted at Sea: What To Do (During & After)

Last Updated by

Capt Chris German

June 15, 2022

There are few incidents at sea that are scarier than a dismasting. The best solution to a Dismasting is to avoid it in the first place, but if you do drop the stick, point your boat towards home, make sure everyone is safe and do the best you can.

I have been fortunate enough to experience a great many things at sea. I have seen the green flash, I have witnessed and sailed through a waterspout and I have swam with dolphins in the currents of the Gulf Stream. But one experience, I can happily say, I have avoided, is the experience of being dismasted at sea.

Whether your boat falls in the class of dinghy or bluewater, the event of having a mast fall down while you sit beneath it has to be one of the scariest experiences one might ever experience underway. I have witnessed it happen twice from afar and both times it looked like a harrowing experience to say the least. I have also seen the aftermath of dismastings multiple times. And the one takeaway I can offer from each and every dismasting I have seen is, it's just as avoidable, as it was scary.

Table of contents

A first hand encounter

My first dismasting was on a tiny hunter 21 in Pequot Harbor during tropical Storm Ernesto. The boat was riding high on the mooring during the early hours of the storm but the owner had made a critical error in leaving the roller furled jib up for the storm. By mid morning the winds were topping a steady 50 out of the southwest and the boat was heading north east with moorings tied to its bow and stern. My manager, Captain Jeff Engborg, a long time captain and master of all things mechanical, eyed the critical failure from the deck of the club house saying, “the jib sheet is coming out”. The jib sheets which were wound tightly around the furled jib, began wiggling loose. Before he could utter another word, a gust topping 70 miles per hour came screaming in from the Sound and the unfurled jib on a dead down wind run. It snagged only briefly on the shroud before billowing out over the bow pulpit and folding the mast in half.

I was fifty yards from that boat but the violence of the mast falling has stayed with me ever since.

The next one I saw was on the water just off Seaside Park in Bridgeport, CT. It was a cool October morning in New England and the Catalina Association was hosting a rally of boats in Black Rock Harbor. The winds blew a steady 35 out of the east and the fleet was rounding the point on the way in, having decided that the weather was a bit too much for the aged fleet of cruisers. Just as this one particular boat, a 35 footer from the mid 80’s, came from behind the lee of the lighthouse, a gust ripped the mast from their deck and plopped it sloppily on the leeward side of the vessel, shredding the main and tangling the standing rigging like a slinky. The boat stopped hard, as if it had an emergency break, and the owners popped their heads up from beneath the carnage like stunned meerkats on the Serengeti. I didn’t see what they did next but instead high-tailed it back to the dock fearing my old boat would be next.

The best strategy is avoidance

In both of those previous cases, proper planning and maintenance would have been an excellent alternative to dismasting. In the case of the Hunter, the owner should have removed all the sails from the boat prior to the storm, or tied a pile of lines on to the jib rather than just wrapping the sheets. As they say in the USCG, “if you can’t tie a knot, tie a lot”

In the case of the Catalina, planning should have included reading a weather report and turning back before the winds got too heavy. The owner failed to recognize that their boat was no spring chicken and that the conditions were too much for his 20 year old Catalina.

I have been told by one of the best surveyors I have ever worked with, Wayne Canning of Ocean Navigator Magazine, that stainless steel rigging has a lifespan of 10 years. After that time, a rig’s chance of coming down increases exponentially without a serious inspection of the rig and replacement. Micro cracks can form in the wire rope of shrouds and stays, as well as in chain plates and turnbuckles. These cracks can only be seen by high tech imaging which most riggers can do for you or you can send them out to an independent lab to be examined yourself. Some riggers will reuse parts of the rig that are free of defect to save some cash, but after 10 years and the expense of pulling the stick, removing the parts, shipping them to a lab and paying for the test, maybe it’s better if you just replace everything.

Wire rope is actually quite affordable and doing the labor yourself can save a ton of money. But if a $20,000 mast comes down because you made a mistake there will be no one else to blame but you.

After the mast has fallen

Witnessing the violence of two masts dropping has convinced me that I have no interest in ever experiencing a dismasting first hand. But just in case, I have always carried a sharp knife, a set of bolt cutters, a first aid kit and a flask of rum on board if it ever did happen. The knife would be used to cut running rigging from the boat should I ever need to and the bolt cutters would be used to part standing rigging and mast wreckage from the decks. The first aid kit would hopefully be useful if my head wasn’t separated from my body, and if and when it ever did happen (and I just happened to survive), I would need a shot rum almost immediately following.

The best way to survive a dismasting is to avoid it in the first place. But once the rig is down in part or full, your attention immediately should come to survival. A rig below the hull can foul rudders and propellers and act as a sea anchor for the boat. With no mast, a sailboat becomes either a vessel not under command or a power boat, so if you have a motor, protect it cause that will be your last option as you watch your rig sink slowly into the great abyss.

If you're lucky, as both the dismasted boats I saw, you will be close to port and can either limp home or get a tow. But if you are out to sea and your mast falls (and no one gets injured badly), will anyone hear it? Your obligation is to use what equipment you do have left, to get your boat and yourself back home safely. If it is only part of the mast that must be cast off, use what is left on board to jury rig a sail and get yourself back to the nearest shipping channel or port of call asap. Depending on your distance from shore, use of your motor may be limited to a few hours at a time to conserve fuel and charge the batteries. I would consider a dismasting as a distress qualifying event and would hail a “mayday” as quickly as possible but that is up to you as the skipper.

If you do go, make sure you come home

Whether you have experienced a dismasting or simply seen the aftermath, you cannot help but walk away with a sour feel in the pit of your stomach. There is no more violent yet avoidable situation that I can think of at sea. Short of Captain Aubrey losing his mizzen while rounding Cape Horn in Master and Commander, I cannot think of any excuse a modern sailor might have to be out there when conditions favor a dismasting. There is no reason to push one’s vessel to the point of dismasting and I think each example I have given demonstrates that point. Some pre-planning and good maintenance can avoid all but the worst of dismasting conditions. But if you do find yourself in peril and the unthinkable happens, remember the welfare of your crew and that your primary objective is to return your ship to port, even if it is a bit shorter than when you left. Thanks for reading and do good, have fun and sail far.

Capt Chris German is a life long sailor and licensed captain who has taught thousands to sail over the last 20 years. In 2007, he founded a US Sailing-based community sailing school in Bridgeport, CT for inner city youth and families. When Hurricane Sandy forced him to abandon those efforts, he moved to North Carolina where he set out to share this love for broadcasting and sailing with a growing web-based television audience through The Charted Life Television Network.

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How do you manage your sailboat when dismasting?

Accidental dismasting can quickly degenerate into a shipwreck if it is not well managed, or if bad luck gets in the way. It is better to have thought about it beforehand so as not to find yourself unprepared in the situation. Here's how this scenario can unfold.

This winter the Class 40 Crosscall was overturned by a wave off the Azores . The boat made a 360 and the mast pierced the cockpit creating a huge waterway . The boat remained between two waters for 11 hours before the two skippers were rescued by a Portuguese Navy helicopter.

Prevent to avoid dismasting

In order for a sailboat to dismast, one part of the rigging must be loose. When turning over, the pressure on the rotating mast underwater is such that it has a high chance of breaking. However, the majority of dismastings are due to broken cables or crimps. Insurers also advise, when not required, to change the standing rigging every ten years.

In addition to the crimps, the forestay, which is hidden by the furling tube, should be regularly monitored. In case of malfunction of the reefing-furling system, it can become dislodged. At the very least, a visual inspection of the rigging at the beginning and end of the season remains a good means of prevention.

What to do if the sailboat still dismasts?

The first thing to do is to ensure the safety of the crew . If no one is injured, you will not have to take any additional risks, as you will not be able to recover a man overboard with a mast hanging in the water. If you are within VHF range of the shoreline, try to notify rescue. Be careful, often the VHF antenna is placed at the masthead on a sailboat . It is very likely to be damaged. Call instead with a portable VHF . Notify CROSS of your situation. Then it's the safety of the boat that has to be taken care of.

Usually the mast breaks at one spreader stage. It is important to avoid at all costs that pieces of the mast ram against the hull. Depending on the sea state, you may therefore be forced to free the entire rigging and let it sink. Also resist the urge to start the engine as there is a high risk of getting a piece of the propeller.

Cut the shrouds that hold the mast to the deck with a pair of guy wire cutters or, failing that, a hacksaw. A good knife is often useful for cutting the genoa which is wound on the forestay. This will allow you to reach the furling line, which you will then have to cut as well. In the water the mast will act on the boat like a floating anchor , stabilising the daggerboard.

If you decide to retrieve it, secure it as soon as possible using the halyards and hoist it using the winches. Be aware that it can be very difficult to get it back on board with the sails still furled. Every situation is different, it will be up to you to decide whether it is worth saving all or part of the rigging and sails.

Once the housework is done, you can try to go home on your own, or wait for help if this is not possible.

Practical Boat Owner

Digital edition

Snap, shackle and drop: coping with a dismasted sailing yacht

Steve Hodges
December 22, 2023

Steve Hodges and his fiancée Sam McClements’ second attempt at the RYA Yachtmaster Ocean passage is scuppered by a dismasted yacht

Credit: Dick Everitt

Purely for personal achievement reasons, my fiancée Sam and I are keen to achieve our Yachtmaster Ocean certificates to cap off a range of qualifications, including cruising instructor for Sam and Yachtmaster instructor for me.

Last year storm-force winds forced us to seek shelter in France, coming ashore for running repairs and rest, and therefore our 600-mile passage was broken into two voyages and not submittable for qualification.

Two men in the cockpit of a sailing yacht

Smithy and Jerry in the positions they were in when the mast came down. Credit: Steve Hodges

Undeterred, we set about trying to cross the Bay of Biscay again in June with two-thirds of the previous crew and our new friend, Jerry. Malcolm, Smithy, Sam and I were excited to put to bed the disappointment of the previous trip, Nigel and Charlie being otherwise engaged – though Nigel, was meeting us in A Coruña to skipper our Beneteau Cyclades 39.3 back to the Channel Islands where we intended to have a family holiday before sailing home.

Preparations

With Sam’s Clipper Round the World Race experience and both our time instructing at Elite Sailing in Chatham we are fairly risk averse and try to prepare for every eventuality.

We serviced the engine including all new filters , a new impeller and a complete replacement of the oils.

We replaced the mainsail with a new one from Resen Sails in Denmark, had her lifted for inspection, Sam serviced all the lifejackets , and conducted a top-to-toe check of the rigging from the bosun’s chair .

We also made additional purchases to last year’s upgrades:

New storm jib , with a sleeve to go over the furling gear from e-sails
New Seago Ocean liferaft with SOLAS B grab bag
IridiumGO! Exec and upgraded subscription to PredictWind.

Equipped with our new gear , a fierce determination, and a tracking fan club (of three) we set off from Eastbourne on Thursday 29 June.

The boat looked great, felt fantastic to sail and the weather forecast was lively but fun.

We intended to beat ‘the Bay’ on round two.

Exhilarating start

Jerry, Smithy and I were on one watch, with Malcolm and Sam on the other and we settled into a routine with a 6+6+4+4+4 watch pattern, giving everyone the required number of sunsets, sun rises, shooting stars and dolphins along with affording Sam and me the time to do our celestial sights for our certification.

This watch system provides good rest periods as well as whole crew mealtimes together.

The first 24 hours aboard were standard stuff, the weather varied from Force 4 to Force 6 and progress was steady.

A chart of a voyage from Eastbourne to English CHannel

Ruby May ‘s voyage until the sailing yacht was dismasted

Sweepstakes for arrival ranged from Tuesday night to Wednesday evening. There was commercial shipping to dodge as we crossed the Channel but boat life was relaxed and fun.

By Friday afternoon the weather had picked up and we put up the new storm jib.

It was also heading at us from the west, slowing down progress, and we knew we needed to reach the top corner of France to make the turn for a three-day beam-reach across Biscay and into Spain.

So we put the engine on at 2,000rpm as we neared the French coast to point up a bit more.

Minor issues

After a few hours under motor, the engine overheat alarm came on and we could smell that something wasn’t right so we turned off the engine and I headed below.

Something had blocked the water inlet and stopped the cooling water from getting into the engine.

Upon shutting the seacock and taking off the impeller cover we could see that all the impeller fins had completely gone.

We fished some bits out of the pipework but the heat exchanger needed looking at.

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We replaced the impeller with a new one temporarily and proceeded to sail. We re-tested the engine and found an okay amount of water coming out of the exhaust so we ran it slowly and hoped for the best.

A second challenge emerged. While heading to his cabin, Smithy found water splashing up above the sole boards.

It’s quite a shallow part of the bilge next to the engine bay so there was no major panic, but we lifted the boards for inspection.

After a couple of hours down below, in fairly bumpy seas I discovered that when putting the pipes back on the pump, the clip around one of the hoses had broken and water was being pumped into the boat. Not ideal!

Port of refuge

Given the weather was a good Force 6+ and building, we decided to duck into Alderney for a few hours, anchor or get onto a mooring buoy and clean up the heat exchanger.

We could also dry out the bilges fully, ready for our main mission – the Bay. We arrived into Braye in fog, punchy winds but with the tide.

Glued to the chartplotter and the faint glimpse of the leading lights we made it into the harbour safely.

The helpful harbour staff in the RIB at Braye assisted us to a mooring buoy. She agreed that there was a Force 7 on the way and we put two lines around the buoy.

We ate, Sam and I stripped the engine down to get to the heat exchanger and spent an hour picking all the rubber out.

We then put it back together, fired it up and with a quick splutter the usual voluminous amount of water started pumping out the exhaust again.

We still don’t know what caused the initial overheating but we were pleased we carry spare impellers and a comprehensive tool kit.

Voyage resumed

Shortly before midnight on Friday, we headed out into the blustery wind, punching the tide for a couple of hours before altering course to port and shooting for the north-west corner of France.

The sailing was great, one large tack to clear Guernsey and we were making good speed in a reasonable direction.

We knew we would need one or two tacks to get ‘round the corner’ but then as the wind shifted slowly to north-west-ish we’d grab our beam reach and get to Spain in one tack.

Early Wednesday morning was still on! We were maintaining an average 6.5 knots.

Shortly before a 2000 watch change, the team tacked for the penultimate time, heading north back towards Blighty and we monitored the weather and tides to find the perfect moment for our last tack of the trip, ready for three days of straight sailing.

At just after 2300 boat time (2100 UTC) my watch was willing the boat along to see if we could get the final tack in before handover at midnight.

We were glued to the Axiom and PredictWind and discussing how best to make it past Ushant, inside the TSS but not too close to the challenging shoreline.

Just before 2330, as Jerry was on the helm, Smithy was sat on the high side of the cockpit and I was sat on the deck floor looking at the chartplotter, out of nowhere and with a quiet gracefulness that was totally unexpected, the mast, just, fell, down .

Clattering onto the starboard side wheel, guardrail, pushpit and partially into the water we were stopped dead in our tracks.

The foresail and furler were also in the water and for one to two seconds we were stunned.

Then, we all kicked into action. “Everybody on deck, lifejackets on please, as quick as possible!” was my request.

The first of two red parachute flares – both went unseen. Credit: Steve Hodges

Sam, resting in the saloon and Malcs asleep ahead of their midnight to 0400 stint, were up instantly. ‘What on earth..?’ was the expression on their faces.

Sam went below and came back with the two grab bags and handheld VHF , while Malcs, Smithy and Jerry did what they could to secure the rig and make sure things didn’t escalate with a punctured hull or anyone getting trapped.

We discussed options: is this a Mayday or a Pan Pan? There was no immediate danger to life, but it could escalate quickly with all the gear on the deck and in the water.

What was our position, were we in a ferry lane, and what further damage was being done? There was a lot of noise, was everyone safe, uninjured and in good health?

We were all focused on getting back to shore in one piece.

We were just under 10 miles from the French coast. I grabbed the emergency VHF antenna and replaced the connector for the one on the mast in the splitter.

Sam issued a Pan Pan but heard nothing back, She popped up a couple of red parachute flares, a few minutes apart and we listened for a call. Nothing.

We grabbed the IridiumGO! Exec from the chart table and, fearing that the condition could escalate, we hit the SOS button.

Malcs also tried making some calls on his mobile, sending a couple of WhatsApp messages to our friend, Deano, in the north of England.

The SOS button achieved a phone call on the satellite network from the Garmin Emergency Response centre in the US.

The signal was poor and the speaker was difficult to hear because of the wind, the noise of the rig grinding against the boat and the waves.

A picture of two people trying to find bags on a dismasted sailing yacht

In a hurry: Steve and Sam on the pushpit with grab bags and Iridium ready to go. Credit: Steve Hodges

It was a frustrating few minutes as we battled for them to understand our location and our Lat and Long position which was clearly displayed on the Iridium screen.

The Iridium doesn’t send your position details or MMSI (and I hope they change it with a software update), it is no EPIRB , it just makes the call or sends a message to the IERCC and then initiates the emergency process which includes calling your shoreside contacts.

So while relaxing at home, my brother Dave received a call from Texas advising him that we had initiated an emergency protocol and did he know where we were this weekend?

Before we left, I had given our shoreside contacts the Satcomms number of the Iridium, a passage plan and access to the PredictWind tracking webpage, this turned out to be invaluable.

Dave made a call to us on the Iridium and despite the poor signal and background noise, his voice came on the speaker with his usual chilled out demeanour, “Yo, what’s up?” “Well it’s a bit tricky out here mate, we have been dismasted, we are all safe and uninjured, but we are currently at 48 degrees, 50 minutes decimal 76 north, and Zero Zero Four degrees, 20 minutes decimal 14 West and could really do with some help!”

The comms were broken and challenging but he had got it. And he was off to call 999 and get the UK coastguard onto the French SNSM.

At the same time, Malcs’ messages had got to Dean, who also called the coastguard .

Rescue support

It was a relief to know the emergency services were being made aware of our predicament.

Smithy stood in the cockpit holding the emergency VHF antenna aloft and Jerry continued to make adjustments to the lines to secure the rig.

Sam continued with the comms on the VHF now escalated to a Mayday and grabbed our bright spotlight to attract the attention of passing vessels.

Malcs kept Deano informed while helping Jerry with the rig.

We each gathered a few ‘extras’ in case we abandoned ship, wallets, warm clothes and I even managed to pop Sam’s sunglasses in a pocket.

Continued reassessment went on but we now had time for smiles and banter.

A man holding a VHF antenna on a dismasted sailing yacht

Smithy holding the VHF antenna with the fallen mast in the background. Credit: Steve Hodges

We were comforted by knowing help was on its way and there was a bright, full moon, but we were still a very little dot in a very large sea.

Then a welcome message came over the radio.

A French fishing boat called Azkarra made contact and was 20 minutes out from us.

Sam scanned the horizon with the spotlight and I kept an eye on the AIS which now had a visible range of only a couple of miles.

We soon saw their spotlight scanning in our direction and Sam reciprocated with enthusiasm.

Knowing that even if the worst was now to happen, the crew of Azkarra had followed the mariner’s code and were by our side was one of the most comforting feelings I have experienced at sea.

Via radio, the Azkarra let us know that the SNSM (French RNLI) and the French Navy were sending out a helicopter!

“Er, I’m not sure they need to do that, we’re all uninjured and in good spirits and there is probably something more valuable they could be doing with their time,” I responded. “They are coming!” Was the uninterested reply. “Fair enough,” I thought.

A second French fishing vessel, Le Tad , arrived and stood, sometimes a little too close, by our side relieving the crew of Azkarra of their duties.

Despite it being probably a few hours since the mast came down, it all felt like minutes.

As Le Tad kept watch over us we saw red flashing lights in the sky and heard the deep thud of rotor slap heading out towards us.

“ Ruby May , Ruby May this is the French Navy helicopter, over”. Not thinking that I should have left the comms to Sam who can speak French, I grabbed the Command mic from its bracket and responded. “Do you have a swim ladder?” they enquired, “Yes, but it is under the mast..” “OK, no problem.”

It felt harsh that we were all warm and dry and they intended to throw some poor fellow in the cold, dark, rolly sea to help us.

I was glad the ladder was out of action.

Helicopter heroes

Out of the helicopter descended the coolest man to grace the earth.

We stared in awe as they casually popped the winchman on the only two square metres of coachroof that did not have rigging or people on it.

He unclipped himself and the chopper headed up to a couple of hundred feet and lit us up with their spotlight.

Impressive doesn’t begin to do it justice. The winchman slid off his helmet, revealing chiselled cheeks and a groomed beard, grinned broadly with perfect teeth, and said “Bonjour!”

A winchman being towed back to a helicopter

The French winchman heads back to his helicopter. Credit: Steve Hodges

Every member of the crew was bowled over.

He offered to airlift three of us, but we all preferred to stay together.

The lifeboat was on its way so we would wait for the tow , and all play a part in the recovery.

Our winchman was nonplussed, “no problem at all” and he took off his sling and removed his diving fins from around his waist. “You don’t need to stay with us, we’ll be fine,” I said. “It is fine, I have nothing else to do,” he replied. And he took his place in the cockpit with the Ruby May gang.

The lifeboat coming from L’Aber Wrac’h was about 30 minutes behind, our winchman was in communication with the helicopter above us and talking to the lifeboat and instructed us to jettison the rig for the tow.

Rig jettison

We knew it was coming but the prospect of cutting away the boat’s rig , sails, every bit of rope and wire, screw and bolt that we had lovingly put into Ruby May felt horrific. We set to work.

Sam, Smithy and Jerry worked on the lines and backstays and Malcs and I set to work with pliers on the shrouds and the forestay.

It was tricky with the lumpy sea and taut rig.

A dismasted sailing yacht being towed at sea

Time for a smile while the dismasted sailing yacht, Ruby May is under tow. Credit: Steve Hodges

We carry bolt cutters and got them out but with the rig under so much lateral tension at various points and the bottle screws all clearly available we decided to unscrew everything in a controlled way.

It took around 45 minutes, by which time the lifeboat was standing by, ready with the towline.

We sliced through the few remaining lines and the top half of our beautiful sailboat was sent 80m to the seabed.

The lifeboat crew moved in with the heaving lines and Sam got them on the cleats.

We pulled in the tow line and made a bridle looped over the windlass, cleats and out the bow rollers.

The SNSM lifeboat crew were super communicative, comforting and gave us a ‘five minute warning’ for the tow to begin.

A dismasted sailing yacht alongside a pontoon

Mastless Ruby May alongside the SNSM rescue vessel in L’Aber Wrac’h. Credit: Steve Hodges

Our temporary crew member donned his helmet, grabbed his bag, and sat on our remaining guardrail ready for his lift.

He gave Malcs, Jerry and Smithy in the cockpit a thumbs up and was gone.

Sam and I on the bow checked the tow rope one final time and then we were on our way, bound for L’Aber Wrac’h.

Sam grabbed the helm to help with the tow and Smithy fetched the bag of chocolate bars and we settled in for the three-hour slog home.

I had a siesta while the others sat up reflecting how lucky we were that no one had been injured or even killed, and how glad we were that it had not happened 150 miles offshore in the middle of the Bay of Biscay.

Lessons learned

Rig check importance. We still have no idea what caused the rig to fail. It was less than three years since her last professional rig inspection and she’d had two thorough checks since then. This has given us the comfort of not having nagging doubts of what we’d have missed if Sam had not spent a couple of hours up the rigging before we left.
Preparedness. Despite often sailing as a family and the boat being our second home, everything has its place on Ruby May . From the first aid kits, to tools, grab bags, EPIRB, bolt cutters, ship’s papers, passports and even chocolate bars, at no point were we hunting around looking for anything.
Setting up the IridiumGO! Exec before leaving was invaluable. We did most of it at home using good connectivity and then tested it with the support of the PredictWind team on the boat before departure.
Briefing shoreside contacts was useful although I had not shared a full crew list and the crew’s emergency contacts. I have since created ‘trip’ folders in OneDrive to share with emergency contacts moving forward.
Prepped grab bags helped the calmness on board. We had passports, ship’s papers, a spare credit card with the PIN written on a fireproof waterproof folder. Sam also mandated that everyone carry a knife and head torch (at night) for the trip. This came in handy when we were cutting away lines and pulling out split pins in the rigging.
Spare VHF antenna . Having the emergency one connected into the splitter helped with communications range, and having the splitter located in a place that was easy to access was helpful – I could connect the emergency antenna in a few seconds.
Crew briefing was critical in our hour of need. Before we left, Sam did a full safety and boat brief, which discussed the route, anticipated weather forecast and safe havens. Each yacht has its nuances and sharing locations of everything, roles on board and expectations helped everyone to feel in control when the plan went off-piste.
Insurance . The GJW Direct team have been incredibly helpful in getting things moving, Andrew for Lloyd Warwick has been great, we got Ruby May back at the end of the summer and the people at Iroise Greement, Incidence Sails and Z Spars UK have all been fantastic.
Teamwork. We owe a debt of gratitude to our amazing crew, who are all signed up for Biscay 2024 – a voyage we’re hoping will be so boring all we’ll have to talk about is the tapas and vino in A Coruña!

Expert response

Neil Brinsdon, managing director of Advanced Rigging and Hydraulics operating from the Hamble River, and Spencer Rigging in Cowes, Isle of Wight, comments:

“The integrity of the rig can be affected by many factors, such as the age of rigging, miles sailed, stresses on designed safety factors or tuning discrepancies, environmental conditions, and if it is subjected to any additional events, such as knock-downs , or crash gybes.

Neil Brinsdon, managing director of Advanced Rigging and Hydraulics

“We don’t know in this case which factor, or factors, may have contributed to the catastrophic failure, but it is good to read that some comfort was given to Ruby May ’s crew by conducting a thorough rig check before their passage, as any prudent skipper would advocate, and that they had engaged with professional inspections and surveys at regular intervals. While it was not sufficient to prevent the dismasting in this case, it will have been an asset to the consequent insurance claim in proving that due diligence was carried out, and a testament to why keeping a detailed, up-to-date maintenance log with photographs is important.

“The crew understandably found cutting away the rig very difficult with bolt cutters, which are inefficient on 1×19 wire and cumbersome to use. Carrying hydraulic cutters is an effective (but expensive) option; wire cutters e.g. Felco C16 cutters, or a hacksaw with multiple blades (at least a dozen) with 32 teeth per inch are other choices. Battery-powered disc cutters are by far the easiest but be aware of loads and movement in the swell. Try different options out on your largest piece of wire and consider if your crew is strong enough to use them and the likely conditions in which they may be needed. Like many safety items, they will be an investment you never hope to use, but if you do, you’ll be pleased to have made a quality purchase that can make all the difference in an emergency.”

Enjoyed reading Snap, shackle and drop: coping with a dismasted sailing yacht?

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Found: Sailboat From Teen’s Abandoned Round-the-World Attempt

Abby Sunderland’s boat was dismasted in the Indian Ocean in 2010 during her controversial bid to become the youngest to circumnavigate the world solo

Jason Daley

Correspondent

You might remember Abby Sunderland’s controversial bid to become the youngest person to circumnavigate the world solo. It was nine years ago when the California teen was forced to halt that journey when storms between Africa and Australia snapped the mast of her custom boat, Wild Eyes , leaving her adrift for two days in the Indian Ocean before she was rescued. Now, reports Bill Chappell at NPR , the sailboat—and Sunderland’s story—has resurfaced; Wild Eyes was recently discovered floating off the coast of Australia.

The South Australia Police report that the capsized craft was located by a tuna-spotting plane some 11 nautical miles south of Kangaroo Island on New Year’s Eve. A police helicopter and two fishing boats investigated the wreck, concluding it was Sunderland’s sailboat by its distinctive markings.

For Sunderland, now 25 and a mother of three with a fourth child on the way, the discovery was a shock. “My heart skipped a beat. It brought back many memories — good and not so good — but it was neat to see it after so long," she tells Australia’s ABC News . “It looked a little creepy but that’s to be expected after so long.”

Sunderland, who resides in Alabama, says she’s not surprised the sturdy sailing yacht is still afloat after so many years. While she would like to recover the craft, the costs are prohibitive. Still, she expressed an interest in recovering any video equipment onboard to see if any footage of the trip remains.

Authorities in the area said they would only attempt to salvage the ship if it posed a navigation hazard. According to the Associated Press , however, it may be too late. By last Thursday, authorities were unable to re-locate the sailboat and believe it may have sunk.

Chappell at NPR reports that Sunderland’s around-the-world attempt set off a debate about whether a minor should be allowed to undertake such a dangerous journey solo, especially since a potential rescue would be so costly. After Sunderland had made it across the Pacific and Atlantic, the 16-year-old’s craft was dismasted in the Indian Ocean in June of 2010 and she was picked up by a French fishing vessel. The seas were rough, and during the rescue operation, the captain of the ship was tossed into the ocean and had to be saved himself.

Sunderland’s parents came under criticism for sanctioning the trip, reports Paul Harris at The Guardian . Many in the sailing community called the record attempt irresponsible. “In Abby's case she was lucky,” world sailing champion Derrick Fries said at the time. “It’s only a matter of time until we end up with a tragedy on our hands.”

The family, for their part, responded that Abby was an extremely experienced sailor, and said the criticism was part of a culture of overparenting. “I never questioned my decision in letting her go. In this day and age we get overprotective with our children," Laurence Sunderland, Abby’s father said. “Look at how many teenagers die in cars every year. Should we let teenagers drive cars? I think it’d be silly if we didn’t.”

Since Sunderland’s attempt, two other 16-year-olds, Australian Jessica Watson and New Zealand-born Dutch sailor Laura Dekker have completed round-the-world sailing trips.

While Sunderland didn’t complete her journey, Chappell reports it’s possible Wild Eyes did. Oceanographer David Griffin, who models how debris moves around the ocean, says that over the course of eight or nine years it’s likely the sailboat already circled the world and, if it still floats, may be starting its second lap around the planet.

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Jason Daley | | READ MORE

Jason Daley is a Madison, Wisconsin-based writer specializing in natural history, science, travel, and the environment. His work has appeared in Discover , Popular Science , Outside , Men’s Journal , and other magazines.

What To Do In A Dismasting And How To Prepare

Having recently been dismasted off the NW coast of France , I have been asked lots of questions from fellow sailors about what it was like; what we would do differently; what worked well; what didn’t; how could they prepare. To address some of these questions and hopefully help you prepare should you ever been unfortunate enough to find yourself in this situation, I’ve covered all of the questions I’ve been asked below. If you have any other specific questions, please do leave a question in the comments below, or contact me.

< Read the full story of our dismasting >

No. If you’ve read any of my blog posts before, you’ll know I am of the belief that fear has no place on a sailing boat. You need to be mentally strong, and mentally prepared, and then no matter what the situation, you will be able to stay calm and rational. Two essential ingredients for a positive outcome in an emergency or ‘intense’ situation.

My advice to all sailors before putting to sea is, think through the risks, prepare for them physically and also mentally. What would you do in X situation? What would you do if Y happened? Put in place everything you can to both prevent it, but also to help make life easier if the situation does occur. If you’ve already thought it through, or envisaged it, then you’ll be one step ahead, and you’ll be calmer.

Equally if you are the skipper, or you are an experienced crew member, people will look to you for that ‘ calm ‘. If they’re scared, and they see that you’re calm it will help keep them calm. If they look to you and you’re riddled with fear, then they too will panic, and then poor decisions are made, chaos ensues, and frankly it can be incredibly dangerous.

Don’t panic, stay calm, be prepared for anything.

We carry two grab bags onboard, they had everything we needed (and more) in case of having to abandon to a life raft. Contents are as follows…

Bag 1 – This is a SOLAS B certified 50 litre waterproof grab bag containing the following:

Category C 1st aid kit
Thermal protective aids
A sea anchor
Buoyant orange smoke flare
3 x red had flares
Waterproof SOLAS approved torch
Water rations
Food rations

Bag 2 – This is an additional 30l waterproof bag that we put together containing a collection of items that we thought may also be needed if we need to abandon ship. Contents are as follows:

More food and water rations
Handheld VHF radio (fully charged)
Mini dry box containing AA and AAA batteries
Waterproof pouch containing the passports of all onboard (collected at the beginning of an offshore passage)
A waterproof torch
A sharp knife
Spare sanitary items
Spare medication for anyone onboard
A credit card
Waterproof pouch containing all crew details (inc next of kin details and medical history)
IP66 waterproof box containing a solar powered battery bank for phones and charging cables
Sea sickness tablets
Glow sticks

In addition to the above, our life raft comes complete with its own additional supplies. We stow our grab bags in an easy access position, underneath the chart table, at the bottom of the companionway steps.

On our yacht (like most yachts), the VHF antenna was at the top of the mast. When the mast came down we lost all radio range on our ships radio, and it also took out our AIS. So raising the alarm was challenging.

We carry an emergency antenna onboard, and at the very least I would recommend this. Albeit, it won’t be much help in an offshore dismasting, as the range is incredibly limited if you are unable to hoist to any significant height. We attempted to use it, but got no response from repeated May Day calls. We also pressed our DSC button, but got no response.

We used red parachute flares, which worked well in the cloudless sky. With a range of up to 40nm, there’s a good chance that they will be seen. Advice is to let one off, downwind, and then let another off 3 minutes later. We believe that one of the fishing vessels that came to our aid, was due to us letting the flares off.

We struggled to get outside help, so we eventually ended up pushing our ’emergency button’ on our Iridium Go Exec. This gave us sat comms, and ultimately the help we needed. This is an expensive system, but proved to be invaluable and is recommended if you are going any significant distance from land.

Onboard, we also have an EPIRB, although we’ve never had to use it. We also have a handheld VHF radio, which was incredibly useful when we had vessels close by that had come to our aid.

Onboard we had a set of bolt cutters. Ultimately these were clunky and inefficient. My advice would be to invest in hydraulic cutters, but also a portable angle grinder (and keep the battery fully charged).

We found it simpler to unscrew all of the bottle screws, and use knives to cut the lines when we were dismasted. This meant we could do it in a controlled and well thought out way, without the risk of highly tensioned cables suddenly thrashing across the deck and causing injury. One issue we came up against was that we had ‘taped’ our bottle screws to avoid clothing snags on the split pins. This proved time consuming to take off (even with knives), and we lost valuable time. ‘Taping’ bottle screws, although common, isn’t something I would recommend or do again.

For us, the whole mast came away from the deck and the mast head was balanced precariously over the starboard quarter (probably 4m under water). Both sails were unfurled and underwater (fully). We believe the forestay failed, but can’t be certain. We attempted to pull it back onboard, and even use winches, but it was impossible. The sheer weight, and size meant it couldn’t be done without potentially causing huge damage to the integrity of the hull (as the spreaders could have punched through).

Ultimately I don’t believe there was any way for us to save the rigging, without unnecessarily putting everybody at serious risk.

First thing was to just take stock – check everyone was ok. Stay calm, and slow down. I immediately jumped to ‘we must cut it away’, but the right thing to do was to stop and think. So that’s what we did. We took a minute to go over the steps we needed to take, and think through how the situation could escalate.

Rough steps we took in our dismasting were:

Wake everyone onboard, with an instruction to stay calm, get dressed and get on deck with a life jacket on
Secure the rig that was across the deck with mooring lines (tied to winches) to reduce the amount of banging and ‘give’ and to also stop it from fully going over in an uncontrolled way
We made the decision to try and get help, as we were only 12nm from land, and so to have help with us when we cut the rig away and someone to tow us in would be useful
Raised the alarm – we tried radio, this didn’t work as we’d lost radio range (due to antenna being submerged), we rigged the emergency antenna, but this gave little range as we could only get it about 2.5m high. Next we put up 2 parachute flares – we believe this got the attention of a fishing vessel (which came after about an hour). Then we pushed our Iridium Go Exec emergency button, this got us in touch with the Garmin Emergency Centre, and subsequently our shore contacts, who called the coastguard
Help arrived by way of a helicopter and fishing boat, and we were instructed to start work on getting rid of the rig, which was semi submerged, with both sails fully underwater – we opted to undo the bottle screws, as it would give us more control, and was more manageable. This took about an hour. We then pushed it in
We hooked up a tow line and were then towed ashore, and updated all shore contacts that we were safe
At all times we were monitoring the crew for signs of shock etc, and after we got back to shore we made sure everyone was ok, and we had a chat/decompress as a crew before people got some sleep – I think this was important, as it allowed everyone to take stock and reflect on what had been quite a big event

I’m very pleased with how we handled the situation and especially how the crew came together. The decisions we made were well thought out, and well communicated. The team came together very well, with no panic, and no stress. The atmosphere onboard was incredibly calm. This helped the situation hugely.

We had all the right prep and plans in place beforehand to handle the situation (any emergency generally), and as such we had everything we needed throughout.

A lot of the below goes for any emergency, and for general safety. But in essence I recommend the following:

Prep your shore contacts – make sure they know where you are, and certainly where you’re starting and finishing (and your eta). Give them full details of your boat (type of boat, length, hull colour, MMSI, call sign etc) and full details of crew onboard (including next of kin details). A lot of this will be asked for by the coastguard, and it will speed up the process of you getting help. We have a whatsapp group with our shore contacts, and so each time we go offshore we can send a topline plan and everything is in one place. For us, the shore contacts were the people that managed to get us the help we needed, and it helped hugely that they had all the details they needed.
Choose your shore contacts wisely – When it comes to choosing your shore contacts, choose them wisely, and make sure they’re comfortable with this role – they could get a call in the middle of the night saying that you have been dismasted, and they may need to liaise with the coast guard, How will they cope? Will they stay calm? Will they be able to do the job? Choose wisely! Our shore contacts did an incredible job and stayed calm, although they both said it was a bit of an unnerving experience, they didn’t know how bad the situation was, and they had to wait several hours for an update, they didn’t get a wink of sleep that night, but nonetheless they did an amazing job, and we were very grateful for their help and level headedness
Do a really thorough safety briefing – we had done just that, we were heading on a 600nm+ passage, and so spent a good couple of hours reminding the crew of the standing orders, where things were (emergency antenna, first aid, iridium go exec, grab bags etc) and going over safety procedures, etc. It paid off hugely. Everyone knew where to find things, so if instructed (i.e. I need a wrench, or I need the emergency antenna) anyone could get it instantly. Hodge is also obsessive with labelling and listing, and this also helped. So invest time in your safety briefing, it will pay dividends if needed
Rig checks – when it comes to dismasting, obviously the condition of the rig plays a critical factor – get regular surveys and inspections, and if you know what you’re doing then do regular checks yourself. I had gone aloft and done a full inspection (with full photographic evidence) 3wks before. We have also had 2 surveys in the last 3 years. This gave us peace of mind that the rig was sound, and has also been very helpful in terms of the insurance. It obviously didn’t prevent the dismasting, but at least we know we did everything we could, and ultimately freak accidents do happen, all you can do is minimise the chances
Have a decent set of bolt cutters onboard (ideally hydraulic – standard one’s won’t do much). Even better, invest in a portable angle grinder and keep it fully charged
Think it through – plan and prepare for the worst, put in place a plan, have everything you need ready (and accessible). Think worst case scenario and work back from there – would you cope? Have you got everything you need? Is everything well located?
Have well stocked grab bags to hand (see above) – keep crew passports in them (if going offshore), and any spare medication
Have torches to hand – our incident happened at night, having a good supply of easily accessible head torches and a good (very high powered) spotlight was essential
Carry a knife – we enforced that all crew had to carry a sharp sailing knife on them at all times, this paid off- we all used them when cutting the rig away
Remember to write in your log book – time passes quickly – keep a note of what’s happening and when – it’s useful for communicating with the emergency services and post event, with the insurers
Take pictures – sounds silly, but it has been a critical part of the insurance claim – the more pictures, the better. We were even asked if we had a picture of the rig in the water, after it had been cut away!
Remember to eat and drink – hours can pass, and it’s essential to keep everyone hydrated and well fueled. So don’t forget to eat and drink, and make sure others do too. Adrenaline may stop them, but when the crash comes, it’s essential that they have good hydration and energy
Finally, stay calm – I said it above, but not panicking can make all the difference in the outcome. Stay calm

Our insurance company GJW have been absolutely fantastic to deal with. Our assessor flew out to see us straight away, and has been incredibly professional and really helpful.

I mentioned above – keep a log book, take lots of pictures, have regular rig surveys, look after your rig, go aloft (if you know what you’re doing) and do your own regular checks – all of this will help you maintain your rig and prevent a dismasting, but it will also be helpful if the worst happens and you need to make an insurance claim.

Try not to listen to the ‘doom mongers’ and especially the keyboard warriors – they will tell you that insurers don’t pay out on rig failure, or that they dock 30%, etc etc . Block that out, focus on looking after your rig, doing the right thing in terms of maintenance etc, and should you find yourself in the position of having to claim, then depending on your policy you will get what is fairly owned under your policy terms, which for us has been a full payout.

The insurance process has been a ‘you pay, we pay’ system – so we have had to source all suppliers and quotes, put them to the insurance company, arrange the work, and then either we have paid and been reimbursed, or because of the size of the claim some of it has been paid direct. It’s quite hard work (especially when in a different country with a different language), but it’s fairly standard across marine insurance. We have opted to have the mast, standing and running rigging along with sails sorted in France, and then bring the boat home to do all of the other work with local suppliers, but it has been no easy feat to coordinate and organise!

Note: this feature is purely my own personal view and opinion. I am sharing this knowledge with the aim to help and assist fellow sailors in, what to expect, and how to prepare having been through the experience of a dismasting. This is not professional advice, and I will accept no liability for the knowledge I have shared here.

I would encourage anyone taking to the water to undergo proper training and seek the right qualifications through a recognised body for example the RYA or ASA.

You should always use a recognised and professional rigger when carrying out any work on your rig, and sail within your abilities, and on a well maintained and well-prepared yacht.

Dismasted sailboat needs a fuel drop off

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Dismasting in the remoteness of the Indian Ocean

That's not the Indian Ocean. That's the Southern Ocean. 1000 nautical miles south of Madagascar, 1600 miles from Cape Town and over 3000 miles from Western Australia. The Crozet Islands were around 300 miles to his south. As I said in the thread about the idiot in the Hamster Wheel, those racing solo around the world are just as stupid and if some Coast Guard arrests Hamster Man they should also arrest Southern Ocean Man. No Soup For You!

MarkofSeaLife said: That's not the Indian Ocean. That's the Southern Ocean. 1000 nautical miles south of Madagascar, 1600 miles from Cape Town and over 3000 miles from Western Australia. The Crozet Islands were around 300 miles to his south. As I said in the thread about the idiot in the Hamster Wheel, those racing solo around the world are just as stupid and if some Coast Guard arrests Hamster Man they should also arrest Southern Ocean Man. No Soup For You! Click to expand...

Is there a latitude where the Indian becomes the Southern Ocean. Or as you head south it is Indian Ocean, then the southern Indian Ocean, then the Northern Southern Ocean Then the Southern Ocean. Then the Southern Southern Ocean, Then, Oops Antarctica.

garymalmgren said: Is there a latitude where the Indian becomes the Southern Ocean. Or as you head south it is Indian Ocean, then the southern Indian Ocean, then the Northern Southern Ocean Then the Southern Ocean. Then the Southern Southern Ocean, Then, Oops Antarctica. Click to expand...

OK, OK, Now, looking at Wikipedia, there seems to have been some highly political differences in history about where the boarder of the Southern Ocean is. I thought it was 40 degrees south, the Roaring 40's ... but thats too simple! The northern limits of the Southern Ocean were moved southwards in the IHO's 1937 second edition of the Limits of Oceans and Seas . The Southern Ocean then extended from Antarctica northwards to latitude 40° south between Cape Agulhas in Africa (long. 20° east) and Cape Leeuwin in Western Australia (long. 115° east), and extended to latitude 55° south between Auckland Island of New Zealand (long. 165° or 166° east) and Cape Horn in South America (long. 67° west). [16] The Southern Ocean did not appear in the 1953 third edition because "... the northern limits ... are difficult to lay down owing to their seasonal change ... Hydrographic Offices who issue separate publications dealing with this area are therefore left to decide their own northern limits. (Great Britain uses the Latitude of 55° South) ". Instead, in the IHO 1953 publication, the Atlantic, Indian and Pacific Oceans were extended southward, the Indian and Pacific Oceans (which had not previously touched pre 1953, as per the first and second editions) now abutted at the meridian of South East Cape , and the southern limits of the Great Australian Bight and the Tasman Sea were moved northwards. [9] Maybe its a bit like Pluto... De-Oceaned! I feel warmer already! Mark

I think it was last year when the Southern Ocean officially became an ocean. I didn't see any limits, but I'd guess it would be where there are no longer pleasant days of sailing. Even if the winds aren't extreme, I imagine the swell never stops.

MarkofSeaLife said: @Chili Palmer you might need to bare with me a bit for me to explain why I do see a correlation, and Im not in anyway trying to be trite or to think that Hamster Man is anything but a nutter. I also recently had a long chat with @Jeff_H before he understood my viewpoint. Backgrounder, yes I have crossed "the pond" a few times. I think more than anyone else on this forum except for @capta : 3 east to west Trans- Atlantic's, 1 West to east Trans Atlantic; 3 Caribbean to NYC; 3 NYC to Caribbean; 2 east to west trans Mediterranean; 1 south Atlantic Canaries to Argentina; 1 x trans Pacific, 1 trans Indian ocean; a fair few East coast Australia Sydney to Great Barrier Reef, and 1 Sydney to Darwin, Indonesia, Thailand. Planning 2024 Caribbean to Maine & return; 2025 Caribbean to UK; 2026 UK, Med, Caribbean. My idea of what "seamanship" is all about is completing the passage . That sounds simple but its not. Hamsterman could never complete an upwind/upcurrent trans Atlantic in his wheel. But he could very well be able to do the East West Trans Atl as its downwind and down current. Bath tubs have done that. A bit of floating wood can do that. Hell, that guy in the 1970s Steve Callagan(??) did it in a life raft from 2 days outside the Canaries till he was washed up in Antigua. My idea of Seamanship is to get your ship/boat/wheel through its passage unassisted, without unscheduled pitt stops, without breaches of safety, without significant breakages that cause an abort of the passage or rescue etc. My argument with @Jeff_H was that he tries to make his boat sail to the best if the boats ability. Whereas I try to sail my boat to complete the passage. Sailing the boat to its best ability (the BOATS best ability/efficiency etc) is, obviously at, or close to Hull Speed or faster if the hull form allows it. Sailing to complete the passage means to sail in a manner not to break anything, to keep the "energy" of the boat as low as possible; to avoid wind that would increase the energy or % chance of a breakage. And in the event of a breakage that the energy expended on the boat at the time was so low as to reduce the damage to allow the completion of the passage. When my boat starts going anywhere near Hull Speed I slow it down. I sail long passages conservatively. Case/Method: A few years ago about 800 miles west of the Azores a storm brewed over Cape Hatteras heading our way. A boat 24 hours ahead of us emailed he was going to try to get to the Azores before it hit. I knew I couldnt. I did a 7 day diversion. 7 days!! Because he was trying hard to beat the storm he broke his auto pilot 18 hours out and was very luck not to get into deep strife. I was fine and sailed in a week later. But heres the rub: 6 boats were sunk in that storm near the Azores. Like the ones in the Indian Ocean/Southern Ocean right now, the 6 were race boats in the Jester Challange. I contend race boats break my rule of seamanship unless they are in a contained environment close to ports/assistance/rescue because they are running their boats too hard, too fast, with too high energy, to have a % safety factor that allows for the completion of the passage. I contend 4 boats in difficulties in a week proves this. Check Marinetraffic.com for that area of ocean and theres no help out there. Theres no shipping lanes there, no ships, the closest ship maybe a week away. The Tony Bullimore rescue the navy ship steamed south west from Perth for 1 whole week to reach the rescue site. * My boat does not go to the Horn, the Cape, Greenland or anywhere but the tropical cruising routes. * You point out the race is well organised. Organisers specifically waive any claim to assessing the viability of boats in their races/rallys/cruises etc They might do a safety equipment inspection but read the fine print of the contract you sign, they're not liable for nothing when it comes to seamanship, its the skipper one. The organisation is sitting in front of a fireplace in New York, La Rochelle, or Cowes and most would have never sailed a bout in the Roaring 40's let alone at hull speed for 6,000nms! The Jester Challange also has an organisation. Again whats "well organised" and how do we know? If 6 hamster wheels set off together after forming a Yacht Club with silk ties and club flags would that then make then acceptable? Of course not. 🤣🤣🤣 * Remember the chart is a Mercator Projection. That stretch of water around the 7 Capes is one hell of a long way. Sailing the way I do doesn't make me 'right', it doesn't mean I don't break things, nor does it mean disaster wont happen. But the percentage chance of it happening disastrously is much lower than others. I believe thats the spirit or the weird word seamanship . Mark Click to expand...

When I began ocean sailing a very large part of the preparation was for each skipper to have some idea of what he/she would do, and have aboard what was needed, should the boat suffer catastrophic damage. There just wasn't a "get out of a scary situation free" card, back then. Of course, it was a great deal easier on wooden vessels with wooden spars, long straight keels and keel hung rudders. to jury rig some form of locomotion. With celestial navigation being an almost mystic art and DR being something each skipper practiced almost without thinking about, there were many, many fewer unprepared people putting to sea. And a good thing, too. Rescue wasn't hours away, or days even, but almost assuredly months (by chance in that case), or never. It was a case of do or die. I've never been a fan of pleasure boats being able to take advantage of the rescue services provided for commercial mariners, for free. Most of us couldn't afford the service and no insurance company could take that sort of hit on a vessel paying the stipend we pleasure sailors pay for offshore sailing. Perhaps, were a policy instituted whereby those pleasure sailors without sufficient knowledge and experience had to pay for their "get out of a scary situation free" card, then there would be many fewer times that the rescuers had to put their lives on the line for those who shouldn't be there in the first place. I'm not advocating licensing or regulating, just paying for services rendered.

“My idea of what "seamanship" is all about is completing the passage . That sounds simple but its not. Hamsterman could never complete an upwind/upcurrent trans Atlantic in his wheel.” Sounds logical. But how many thought Alain Bombard had even the most remote chance? My grandfather sailed to Hawaii, Samoa, and Guadalcanal. Later, to UK. Then North Africa, and later France. His chance of failure was high. The torpedo didn’t help. But the fact that he and his cargo got through- and others didn’t - was an acceptable risk. Sometimes I do things that have a high probability of failure. Almost everything of significance I’ve done has been in spite of others trying to stop me. Sometimes i get lucky, sometimes I pull it off the next try. The risk of loss to the Spanish treasure fleets was astonishing. I think they were nuts- not the rich backers, but the sailors themselves. A successful passage and return though had great reward…but does all reward have to be monetary? There’s nothing like pulling into port and saying “ha! We pulled it off!” I guess we failed passagemaking thrice this year, heading out and failing to make the destination port. But the failure still forced refreshing of heavy weather sailing, and instilled confidence in crew and boat As for proximity to life saving services, is there a difference between the southern oceans and ten miles from shore when the coast guard refuses to go out? I like that definition of seamanship. I do try to keep to that. I didn’t always. Not everyone has to be of the same mind.

Ari Känsäkoski’s test of determination and ingenuity to reach land - Global Solo Challenge

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Safety at Sea: Dismasted on the Atlantic

By Joanna Hutchinson
Updated: January 2, 2019

Prepare yourself,” called Micha as he scrambled past, thrusting one arm through his foul-weather jacket as he dashed out into the cockpit. The wind whistling past the hull began to race faster and my heartbeat increased as I hurriedly stored the hot rope cutter and needles I’d been using to make new curtains, grabbed my coat and headed for the companionway. Moments later, my head popped out through the hatch just in time to see the 65-foot wooden mast from our 93-year-old classic yawl , Pantagruel , crash over the starboard bow like a felled tree.

Timberrrrrr!

In this second, our world and all our plans changed completely. It didn’t feel real. I half believed that if I closed my eyes and reopened them, the mast would still be intact and we would be sailing normally. I didn’t know how to respond. I could barely look at Micha, knowing that after owning the boat for 20 years, one of his worst nightmares had come true.

What now? My thoughts were hazy, not willing to accept our new reality. We were 10 days into our doublehanded Atlantic crossing from St. Maarten to the Azores, and still 600 nautical miles away from land. How will we continue? Will we be safe? How will we get to land? Will it be with or without Pantagruel ? We’d used up most of our fuel already, so motoring was not an option.

The squall didn’t last long. The wind died down and the sun came out, painting a surreal picture as we gazed in disbelief at the jagged edges of our broken spar stabbing at a blue sky. Micha walked over to examine the devastation, his face set like stone. After a few moments, he sprang into action. “We need to cut away the rigging from the mast and set it free from the boat before it damages the hull,” he said. There was no way to get it back on board with just the two of us, and leaving it on a long line and towing it behind would be too dangerous, especially if the weather turned. Besides, it would be hard to make progress.

Micha disappeared down below and reappeared with giant wire cutters, wrenches and other tools. Reluctantly, we got to work, clipping and snapping away at any rigging attaching the mast to the boat. It was heartbreaking cutting through the strong lines and wires. We flinched with each snip, as if amputating a limb. We even got out the angle grinder to cut through some of the heaviest-duty shrouds. It was devastating work. Before I let go of the genoa sheet, releasing our newest sail into the ocean, I called to Micha, “Shall we try to save this one?”

“Just cut it away,” he sighed — something he’d later regret.

We cut the mainsail away but worked hard to keep the boom on board. The mast, rigging and sails dragging in the water acted like a sea anchor. The moment we cut the last piece away, we instantly noticed a big change in the movement of the boat as we began rolling wildly in the North Atlantic swell. We wished later that we’d been brave enough (and had the energy) to pump up the dinghy and motor to the top of the mast, which was still floating, and rescue the genoa and the new shrouds.

By the time we finished and were finally completely free of the mast and everything attached to it, the sky had already grown dark, and we gave up for the evening. Down below, I numbly started making dinner, more out of habit than out of hunger, while Micha sketched diagrams of a jury rig. I’d been imagining being rescued by another ship or even a helicopter! Meanwhile, Micha had been envisioning ways to get Pantagruel back to safety.

The mast had snapped just above the gooseneck, and his plan involved raising the boom, which was 23 feet long, to use as a replacement. Nevertheless, that evening, we decided to set off the distress alert on the VHF radio.

Totally drained, we didn’t have much of an appetite and nibbled at our food as we analyzed the day’s events. The wind had been blowing at Force 5, or around 20 knots, from forward of the port beam, and we’d been sailing closehauled before the squall had hit. As usual, we were worried about being late to meet our next crew waiting for us in the Azores, and so we had all our sails up: main, mizzen and two headsails, including our 970-square-foot genoa, in order to be as fast as possible. We were also behind with jobs, and had left our windvane steering while we were both busy down below, popping our heads up once in a while to check on everything.

Our cutter-rig headsails were hank-ons, and required one of us to go out onto the bowsprit to lower them. In big seas and strong winds, this was not always an easy task. Our tactic was to steer downwind to reduce the power in the sails in order to drop them. On this occasion, when the squall hit and the wind picked up, the strain on the mast when trying to bear away had been too much, and the mast had come down before we’d had a chance to release the mainsheet. For a mast to collapse, there only needs to be one weak point. In our case, it had been the 6-foot-long shroud chainplate, which was bolted through the planks on the inside of the hull on the port side. It had been pulled out of position and no longer supported the mast. We debated later whether our rope ladder, allowing crew to climb up the shrouds to spot shallows — or for the crew to jump off into the water — had put considerable extra strain on the chainplate, weakening it over the years.

Without its mast, the boat was rolling helplessly, and I don’t think either of us slept a wink that night as we clung to the mattress and listened to each individual spice jar slide back and forth on the shelf.

The next morning, we received a response to our distress call on the VHF from a tanker 20 miles away. At first, we simply asked for a weather forecast, which luckily sounded relatively benign. The tanker pressed us as to why we’d sent a distress signal, asking if there was anything else they could do to help. We explained our situation and said we could use some fuel. We did a quick mental calculation: 600 nautical miles to go; our motor uses 1.3 gallons of diesel an hour, giving us a speed of 6 knots. We decided 132 gallons should be enough to get us to the Azores. To our surprise, they were happy to oblige, and merely asked what kind of fuel we needed — it turned out they were a tanker transporting oil!

They kindly diverted their course to head in our direction and asked us if we would be OK to receive the fuel in 55-gallon barrels that they could crane down from the tanker deck. There would be no chance of going alongside in this swell, so our only option was to inflate our dinghy to collect the barrels.

It was a good feeling to know that someone was out there and they were coming to help. Micha asked if I wanted to leave the boat at this point, and said he’d understand if I’d rather return to land with the tanker. Not wanting to leave him on his own, I declined. The weather had been relatively calm since the mast had fallen, and I didn’t sense we were in danger.

Feeling relieved that help was on its way, we discussed methods for getting the fuel barrels on board. We decided to use two lines, and wrap one end of each to the winches on either side of the cockpit. We’d run the other ends along each side of the deck to the middle of the boat, and make a loop in both the free ends. The loops would be hung off the port side, amidships, and then looped over each side of a barrel in the dinghy. Winching in each line carefully, the barrel could be rolled horizontally up the side of the boat and onto the deck.

Less than an hour later, we saw the tanker, Carpe Diem II, looming on the horizon. It grew steadily bigger until it was just a couple hundred yards away. It was exciting and frightening at the same time to see such a huge vessel heading straight for us — the kind of scenario we usually try to avoid!

Micha jumped into the dinghy and motored over to the side of the tanker where the barrel was being craned down. He looked so vulnerable in our little inflatable next to the 557-foot-long tanker, whose sides were rolling up and down at least a dozen feet in the swell. I watched in disbelief as the barrel was lowered from the 82-foot-high deck, swinging back and forth as the tanker rocked about. I was terrified it would knock Micha on the head as he tried to grab hold and unhook it at the exact moment it hit the dinghy floor. We are extremely grateful for the great skill of the tanker crew, who positioned the dinghy, barrels and crane.

Back at Pantagruel , Micha tipped the barrel on its side and slipped the loops from the two ropes we’d prepared around each end. My job was to leap from side to side of the cockpit, winching in each line bit by bit as Micha called out, “Port, starboard, port,” ensuring that the barrel was rolled up horizontally and not left to fall into the water. The motion from the waves caused the dinghy to bump into the barrel, sometimes knocking it out of the loops and back into the dinghy. Micha roared in frustration as he tried to reposition the barrel to restart the winching process.

Once the first barrel was safely on board, we repeated the procedure for barrel number two. This time, while trying to winch the barrel on board, the dinghy bashed into it as it was halfway up the side, causing it to fall into the water. Micha’s screams got louder, and I thought silently, What else can go wrong? Can we just forget this barrel, and get another one? But Micha had already got the oars out and was starting to paddle after the floating barrel. I put Pantagruel in gear and motored slowly after him until he’d got the barrel back in the dinghy and we began the winching process once more.

We repeated this procedure one last time (minus the paddling). The guys aboard the tanker now lined the rails to watch our progress. Afterward, Micha visited the bridge of the ship and was given the opportunity to call home to explain the situation and to pass on a message to our next crew.

Both back on board, complete with three fuel barrels, we began the task of siphoning the diesel into our tanks as the ship slowly disappeared into the distance. Several hours later, our tanks were full once again. However, with wind and the waves dead on the nose, our predicted 6 knots headway was more like 4 knots, which would leave us short of fuel to make the 600 nautical miles to land.

The next day, we turned the engine off and set to work on Micha’s jury rig. The most difficult part was figuring out how to raise the boom up as a mast. We put our two headsail poles together as shear legs on the foredeck, with a line attached from the top of the poles to the end of the boom. As we lowered the poles, they brought the boom up to a vertical position. Before raising the boom, we attached all the necessary standing and running rigging.

It was growing dark by the time we’d finished, and I persuaded Micha to wait until daylight before trying to hoist a sail. I was greeted the next morning by the strange sight of the head of our staysail fluttering past the coach-house window. Our jib was now acting as a mainsail without a boom, with the tack of the sail at the top of the new mast and the head reaching back as far as the cockpit. We were sailing again!

We hoisted another jib upside down, with the tack again at the top of the new mast and the head at the end of the bowsprit. We tied the head in a knot to reduce the length so we could still use the hanks to attach the sail to the new forestay.

We were therefore able to hoist four sails once more, including the mizzen and mizzen staysail. Our maximum speed with our new rig was about 4 knots and we could only sail at about 80 degrees to the apparent wind, but all in all, it wasn’t too bad.

In this manner we were able to half sail, half motor our way to the Azores. There we had a new sail made to fit our jury-rigged mast, and found the situation so stable that we kept the rig all the way to Germany.

In the end, we weren’t much slower than many other boats sailing across the Atlantic around the time Pantagruel was built, and with all the other systems on the boat functioning well, we didn’t feel like we were in a particularly dangerous situation. The journey took two weeks longer than originally planned, but luckily, we had plenty of food on board!

We are now sailing once more on the Atlantic Ocean, with a new mast standing tall, on our way to complete a circumnavigation aboard Pantagruel .

Micha Sinzel has nine Atlantic crossings and many other sea miles in his wake, and has owned *Pantagruel for more than 20 years. Joanna Hutchinson began sailing seriously six years ago, and recently earned her RYA Yachtmaster rating. Together, they are circumnavigating to celebrate Pantagruel’s 100th birthday.*

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Yachting Monthly

Digital edition

Crash Test Boat – Dismasting

Chris Beeson
February 4, 2015

What do you do when your sailing world crashes round your ears? Chris Beeson and the Crash Test crew created a ‘controlled’ dismasting in a gale and put eight rig-cutting tools to the test

The Crash Test Boat rolled like a drunk on a waltzer. Working on deck was a real challenge Credit: Lester McCarthy/YM

The mast: elegant, upstanding, unwavering – the very definition of seamanship under sail since the Egyptians first pioneered wind-powered trading vessels over 5,000 years ago. Without a mast, we are merely motorboaters. If it’s free of structural defects, well maintained and you reef appropriately in strong winds, it will give years of sailing pleasure.

But what happens if it does break? The best case scenario is an abrupt end to your day’s sailing. You clear all lines from over the side and motor home with a slightly shaken but otherwise uninjured crew, and an expensive story to tell. The worst outcome is that the mast injures the crew, then its wreckage punctures the hull and your boat sinks.

To minimise the chances of a drama turning into a total disaster, it’s vital to clear the wreckage and cut away the rigging quickly. But how effective are the £30 set of bolt croppers you bought from a DIY store several years ago? They’ll probably have been buried in a locker and be rusted solid by the corrosive marine environment. Can you use them on a wet, rolling deck when you need one hand for the ship? Will the jaws’ scissor action cut through effectively?

The dismasting was controlled but the damage was real enough and the adrenalin was flowing through us all

These are some of the questions we wanted to answer. We researched every method of cutting shrouds so we could evaluate them in a real-life situation at sea. We ruled out a 12v angle grinder, which some recommend, because using electrical equipment on a wet, rolling deck is extremely hazardous. The tools we decided to test were:

Nail pinchers
Bolt croppers
Cable cutters
RigOff, a dismantlable bottlescrew
Hydraulic cutters
Shootit, which uses a small explosive charge

What happens after a mast breaks?

Paul Lees, from Crusader Sails, a veteran of three dismastings, forewarned the crew that a dismasting is actually fairly sedate process, because the sails slow down the action of gravity. Having experienced it for the first time, I’m not sure sedate is the word, but it certainly wasn’t as violent as I had expected.

0.00 secs: Fuses break, the topmast falls off… 0.50 secs: and the mast bends to its limits…

0.75 secs: Stayed by lowers, the mast snaps… 1.50 secs: the lowers’ coquilles fall out…

2.25 secs: leaving the stump unstayed… 3.00 secs: and the whole lot goes over the side

From my position at the genoa sheet winch, it looked at first as if the genoa halyard had parted but a split second later the mast collapsed with a crack that was just audible over the noise of the wind. The backstays settled across the cockpit, rather than scything down like a cheesewire, as I had feared. Paul advised us that when the rig goes, the safest places to be are down below, aft of the twin backstays or lying in the cockpit. We did as we were told and nobody was hurt.

The most notable difference was the increased rolling. Without the mast and sails to dampen the motion, the yacht rolled faster and more frequently. Moving safely on deck was a hands and knees affair, except for the youngest and nimblest crewman, Mark. With the yacht’s severe motion and a lack of lifelines, we all wore lifejackets – there was a very real risk of somebody falling overboard.

We didn’t clip on with tethers, though, for several reasons. We wanted freedom of movement in case several hundred kilogrammes of twisted aluminium suddenly decided to shift. Secondly, on a deck festooned with lines and shrouds, we would have been clipping and unclipping every couple of feet.

Add to that the chances of accidentally clipping onto the lifelines, only to be dragged overboard as the mast slid over the side. It would be easy to get tangled in the wreckage and cordage and be dragged under.

Recovering the wreckage

After securing the stump, the first job was to get the boom and mainsail below, clearing space on deck and leaving us enough kit for a jury rig. The main halyard was cut at the stump, the sail hauled down its track, the gooseneck unbolted and the lot moved below

The plan, which couldn’t be completely formed until we knew what wreckage we were dealing with, was to secure the stump, then remove the boom’s gooseneck, kicker and mainsheet and stow it below, along with the mainsail, for potential jury rigging. This would also clear deck space. Next, the outboard end of the stump would be hauled alongside and inboard by securing lines around it and winching it within reach. With the stump secured, we would try to haul the top section alongside and repeat the process. This second stage promised to be far more difficult because of the weight of water in the genoa.

While cutting away the rigging, the stump escaped the lashings securing it and slipped over the side. Rolling as we were, it could easily have punched through the hull. We managed to haul it back aboard, but it took four of us nearly three hours

In the half-hour I spent testing the shroud cutting tools, the boom and mainsail were stowed below. The mainsail was freed by cutting the halyard – but the mast stump had slipped over the side. We spent two hours hauling it back aboard, by which stage we had drifted five miles east, on wind and tide, to beyond West Lepe. We were too close to shipping lanes to continue our test, so we secured one end of a mooring line to the top section, tied a fender to the other and cut the forestay to ditch it (our support boat, Dave Kennett’s Dunlin, recovered it). After checking for lines over the side, we started the engine and motored home.

The lesson we learned about recovering a wrecked mast is that, on boats over 30-35ft, it’s just not possible for an average coastal cruising couple. Saving the boom and mainsail was fairly easy and left us something to jury-rig, but even getting the stump aboard was extremely hard work for four relatively fit and strong crew. The solution is to buoy the wreckage if you’re in shallow water, to enable recovery, then cut it free. If you’re in open ocean you’ll have rather longer to recover the rig, but the sea state will make recovery even harder and the potential for holing far greater.

Dismasted at night

Even during daylight, moving around the deck, cutting the right halyards and distinguishing lifelines from rigging wasn’t as easy as you’d think. At night, I would have real concerns for the safety of anyone working on deck. A lifejacket, harness and lifeline are essential, as is a head torch. A decent multi-tool, in addition to your rigging cutters, is also recommended. Check the jackstays are secure before leaving the cockpit, as they may have been damaged during dismasting, and exercise extreme care on deck.

A hole in the hull

This is the big worry when the mast goes over. We took some heavy gelcoat gouges in the topsides but no punctures. That may be due to the fact that our Francespar had hinged spreaders, riveted to the mast, that folded up as soon as the shrouds parted. Welded spreaders, or those supported through the mast by a rod, are stronger and would have offered the mast more support but they would also remain in place and present a greater danger of holing, making the need to ditch the spar all the more urgent.

Cutting tools on test

After the mast fell to leeward, we took stock of the situation. The boat’s momentum carried her round to windward of the rig, but with wind and waves pushing the hull downwind faster than the tide, the sails became a sea anchor, with the main doused to starboard and genoa ballooning to port. Within minutes the yacht scraped back to leeward of the wreckage. Wind-rode, there she stayed, beam on to wind and waves, drifting east up the Solent’s mainland shore.

Then we began to free the hull from the wreckage, pulling out clevis pins with some tools and cutting shrouds with others. The Crash Test Boat had 8-10mm 1×19 stainless steel wire rigging. The deck was wet, covered with sails, rope and shrouds. Some of the starboard stanchions were torn out of the deck and the lifelines were down. Without her mast, the yacht was rolling like a fairground ride.

Nail pincers around £4

The ability to clamp the jaws over a clevis pin gave these an advantage over pliers

These came from photographer Lester McCarthy’s expansive and well-maintained toolkit. He had several pairs, but I chose the ones with jaws that opened wide enough to grip the head of the clevis pin. If they don’t, they’re useless for this task. In our test, these performed better than the pliers, possibly because of their condition. The advantage of being able to clamp the jaws over the head of the clevis pin makes them better suited to the task than pliers. They can be used one-handed, too, but share the same problem as the pliers: no use if there is any load in the stay, or the bottlescrew’s split pin is inaccessible.

Pliers around £7

Ours were badly rusted but still removed split pins and unloaded clevis pins

Every boat has a set of pliers. They’re cheap to buy and easy to use one-handed. Ours were part of a budget Halfords toolkit. They were corroded after our capsize test but performed well in removing a split pin and drawing out the clevis pin on one of the twin backstays.

It took a minute to free the backstay from its chainplate but, crucially, there was no load in the stay. Had there been, I couldn’t have pulled out the clevis pin. It’s also possible that a bottlescrew could fall so that the split pin was facing the deck, making it inaccessible without manhandling the shroud.

Hacksaw with bi-metal blade around £23

It took 20 seconds to cut through the last, heavily loaded stay, and I still had a hand for the ship

It’s a false economy to buy a cheap hacksaw, as I discovered. My £8.99 hacksaw, from a DIY store, had a plastic blade-retaining pin that soon snapped, so we used photographer Graham Snook’s sturdy metal hacksaw with a stainless steel cutting blade – standard blades will blunt quickly sawing through rigging.

The leeward D2 shroud was heavily loaded and hanging over the rail. With the lifelines torn out and the boat rolling heavily, a two-handed tool would have presented real problems. I held the hacksaw with one hand and the mangled granny bars with the other. Though tricky to cut accurately, with boat and rigging moving independently, it took just 20 seconds to cut the shroud, strand by pinging strand.

Bolt croppers around £80

Bolt croppers worked well but they still need two hands to operate them

Again, we plundered Lester’s tool kit and found two pairs of bolt croppers, one that opened just wide enough to enclose the rigging and another that could potentially have cut the mast in two. I chose the former. Made in Germany, the price and origin remain a mystery.

I had expected the rigging wire to squeeze out of the jaws, requiring several chomps and damaging the blades, but they cut through at the first attempt. Using the proven technique of the full range of the handles and the built-in cam action, I needed less grunt than I expected. These were heavy, two-handed tools, so you need to brace yourself well. Good-quality bolt croppers are expensive.

RigOff £116.20 each

Remove the rubber collars, then the steel flanges, and the bottlescrew dismantles

Made by UK inventor Cameron Jemison, this is a bottlescrew that dismantles. A pair of two-piece rubber collars peel apart, two retaining flanges slide out and the centre section falls into three pieces. Production is small-scale, with Cameron looking for a licensee. If the product is successful, prices will come down.

The RigOff was fitted to the heavily loaded leeward cap shroud. Despite lack of access to the underside, removing the rubber collars was easy enough but the flanges didn’t fall away and weren’t going to be moved by hand. After a kick, the top flange fell away, followed by the second as the unit fell apart, as designed. It’s one-handed, involves minimal effort and no tools but, under load, the flanges needed some persuasion.

Cable cutters around £160

They’re lighter than they look but you still need two hands when you need one for the ship

These came from and Paul Lees’s toolkit. Their primary advantage is that an indent in one blade holds the shroud captive. These are Swiss-made Felco cutters – a very decent pair, strong enough to cut six stays without damaging the blades – so they are expensive.

Despite their size, bigger than the bolt croppers, the steel-cored aluminium handles made them much lighter, but they still required two hands. Without the mechanical advantage of the bolt croppers’ cam action, they required far greater effort. With the stay held captive, I eventually placed one handle on the deck and leant all my weight on the other. They cut cleanly but there was no chance of using one hand for the ship.

Shootit around £499

Using nail gun cartridges, Shootit fires a steel bolt that severs the rigging in an instant

Designed to cut through stays, this German-made device uses the same sort of explosive charge used in nail guns. It worked perfectly and involved much less drama than I’d imagined. Press the red button to open the chamber, slide in the charge strip, close it, cock it, hook the jaw around the stay, remove the safety, press the silver trigger and the shroud was severed with absolutely no effort involved. It has no other uses, however, which affects its value for money score, and you can’t board a plane with the charges.

Hydraulic cutters £1,116.53 (wire up to 14mm)

These were easy to use and quick, but they’re very expensive and still need two hands

We borrowed these from Holmatro dealer The Rig Shop in Southampton. They arrived in their own dry bag and suffered no ill effects from their immersion during the capsize test. Due to the pressures involved, hydraulic equipment is generally heavily engineered and that’s reflected in the price.

They couldn’t have been simpler to use: open the jaw and close it around the stay, then pump about 10 times. You can rest the handle on deck and operate it one-handed. They’re simple, effective and involve minimal effort, but they’re expensive and exclusively for cutting rigging.

(All prices correct in 2011)

What we learned

It may have been a test but the tension was real enough

Cutting stays

The results were a surprise to me but, as I’m unaware of any other dismasted yacht that has been able to test in anger every practical method of cutting shrouds, I’ll stand by these findings. Significantly, we proved that loaded and unloaded stays are very different beasts and that tools you can use one-handed have a major advantage, particularly when the lifelines have been swept away.

If you can afford them, the hydraulic cutters and the Shootit were the simplest, quickest and easiest ways to cut wire stays. A decent hacksaw, with bi-metal stainless steel-cutting blades, is also effective, can be used one-handed and has other uses. Make sure you have spare blades that are protected against corrosion.

Much to my surprise, the bolt croppers worked very well – much quicker and easier than the cable cutters, despite their weight and two-handed operation. But are you prepared to spend over £70 for a decent set that you’re unlikely to use? Probably not. A cheap pair, even if they haven’t rusted solid, won’t be up to the job of cutting six or more stays. If you choose bolt croppers, don’t skimp, and make sure the jaws open wide enough to enclose the stay fully.

You will already have a pair of pliers or nail pinchers on board. For unloaded stays, they offer a simple, cost-effective, multi-purpose solution but they won’t help on loaded stays. Don’t even try. That amount of stainless steel whipping back at speed could cause injury.

The RigOff is a clever piece of engineering and a refreshing approach to the problem. Bearing in mind it was heavily loaded and the shroud was over the side, its slightly recalcitrant performance is still creditable. You need at least six for an average sloop rig, so it’s not cheap, but you’d save on the cost of six standard bottlescrews.

With the tide taking us closer to shipping lanes, we cut the forestay and our support vessel salvaged the remains

The forestay was the last to be cut, and the trickiest. With the furling gear surrounding the stay, removing the split and clevis pins was a good theoretical solution. However, during our dismasting, the toggle took such a battering, deforming as it fell across the anchor, that the split pin could not be removed. Even if it could, the forestay is almost certain to be loaded because of your genoa-cum-sea anchor, so you’re unlikely to be able to remove the clevis pin.

The forestay’s split pin was never going to be pulled out

With the forestay bent over the pulpit, the wire was exposed in one place, between the drum and the luff foil section. The gap wasn’t wide enough to use the Shootit or the Holmatro cutters and it was moving around too much for hacksawing. Crusader Sails’ Mark Lees clamped the cable cutters around the exposed wire and, after a few seconds contorting himself into a position where he could generate the required leverage, the stay parted.

How to avoid dismasting

Check your rig

Provided it’s free of structural issues and barring a knockdown, a rig never just fails. There are always signs of imminent failure and they’re not difficult to spot. Catch them in time and you will save your spar.

Check and tape split pins

Make sure your split pins are secure and in good shape

They may seem insignificant but, make no mistake, a handful of properly fitted split pins will save your mast. Without them, bottlescrews and clevis pins work loose and you’ll lose the lot. Use the biggest split pin that will fit the hole, pack any space with stainless steel washers, insert the pin, spread both its legs into an anchor shape and secure with tape or a blob of silicone.

Check mainsail track sliders, cars or bolt rope

Are your sliders all secure? If one fails, the rest could follow

Just as a snapped furler line will leave you with far too much sail up, losing a few mainsail track sliders or tearing out your main’s bolt rope can leave the sail bulging to leeward. In a matter of seconds the wind can strip out the others, leaving you with a spinnaker where your mainsail used to be. Check the fastenings to both mast and sail are secure, repair if you’re in any doubt.

Check shroud terminals

Signs of failure at swages and T-terminals are always evident. Check the mast terminals, too

Securing mooring lines to shroud bases is never a good idea because the loading can deform rigging toggles and weaken bottlescrews, creating uneven loading and increasing the chances of failure through fatigue. If there isn’t a cleat handy, use genoa cars, winches or padeyes instead. For standing rigging, check the top of the swage and look for any broken strands. If you find some, replace that shroud and its opposite.

Check your furler and line

Check the furling line. Make sure the lead onto the drum is fair and that there are no chafe points. If it’s looking tired, replace it. Remember, if the furling line breaks in a blow, you’ll have far too much sail up for the conditions and the loads will be critical. Also, check the grub screws on the collar where the drum meets the luff tube. The forestay shakes tremendously during tacks and those grub screws can easily come loose. Secure them with PVC or Loctite.

Send a rigger up the mast

Vibration can cause shackles to come undone over time. Seizing them with wire or cable ties prevents it

There is no tension in the stays of an unstepped mast, and that means broken strands can creep back into the swage, giving the appearance that nothing’s wrong. Once a season, send a rigger aloft. He can check for broken strands at the top of shrouds, cracks in terminals, or in the mast around terminal fittings, and make sure your shackles are properly seized and your sheaves are in good order.

Manage your canvas

It’s fun for five minutes, then uncomfortable and, ultimately, expensive. Reef early

The old adage states: ‘If you’re thinking about it, it’s time to reef.’ Barrelling along with the rail under is all good schoolboy stuff but it’s neither comfortable nor especially quick and you are stressing the rig unnecessarily. You wouldn’t drive your car at 50mph in second gear and a boat is no different.

Trim sails properly

Fit genoa car tweakers if you don’t have them already. It’s the key to leech control

Leaving sails to flog – even that pesky bit at the top of the genoa’s leech – shortens the life of the sail and shakes the entire rig. Get you know your sail controls and learn as much as you can about sail trim without laying yourself open to accusations of racing. Your sails and your rig will last longer and you’ll enjoy sailing more – and cut a more experienced dash on the water.

How we did it

For the Crash Test Boat dismasting, we had gale force winds in the Solent

We needed at least 20 knots of wind for this test. We set out from Lymington with a forecast WSW Force 5-7, occasionally 8. Bramblemet was recording a steady 30 knots. Despite wind-with-tide, we thought it would be more than enough.

We had an entire neap flood tide and the whole of the western Solent to play with before we troubled any shipping. We made sure there was enough water to avoid digging the masthead into the seabed, ‘pole-vaulting’ the boat over the spar and risking damage below the waterline.

We replaced the lee shrouds clevis pins with short lengths of fibreglass batten, then tacked

With three reefs in the mainsail and a third of the genoa unrolled, we were storming around at 9-10 knots. We planned to dismast her just above the first spreaders by replacing the clevis pins on the leeward cap shroud and D2 with short lengths of 10mm fibreglass batten, or ‘fuses’, while on starboard tack, then tack over, harden up and wait for the bang. Mark and Jerry went forward to insert the ‘fuses’, taped them up and came aft. The battens were far stronger than anyone thought – the rig didn’t budge. ‘Next time someone tells me they’ve broken a batten, I’m going to ask them how they did it,’ marvelled Paul.

Aiming for a bit more sail, the genoa was accidentally unfurled completely. ‘That’ll do it!’

Undeterred, we wore around, gybing heavily enough to pull a mainsheet block off the boom. We replaced the 10mm battens with 6mm, tacked onto port again and waited. And waited. Finally, Paul called for more headsail and Mark accidentally let it all out. With the genoa shaking violently, the loads were finally high enough for the battens to shear.

Unstayed, the top of the mast arched to leeward. With a full genoa on a sagging forestay in 30 knots of wind, and the lowers holding the first spreaders in place, the mast took on an S shape as the extra compression loading crushed it on its step. Three seconds later the masthead hit the water.

Unsurprisingly the weakest point of the mast is just below the first spreaders, at the coquille holes

The break was at the point where the coquille terminals for the fore and aft lowers were positioned. These require four apertures in the mast and, once the cap shroud and D2 had parted, that was the weakest point.

The coquilles for the lowers then sprang out, leaving the stump unsupported. It bounced off its step and fell overboard.

Other tests in the Crash Test Boat series

Holed and sinking

Broken seacock

Gas explosion

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The Right Way To Navigate Bridges

At some point in your travels here and there by boat, you may have to request a bridge opening. Here's how to do it right.

A crowd of boats wait for a timed bridge to open. (Photo: Mel Neale)

Whether you have to deal with bridges only occasionally or every day, you'll probably have to deal with them at least sometimes. If your boat has very little air draft, you may think there's not much to worry about. But there may be, and the issue of whether you're too tall to get under is only one of many. Here's what to expect when your way is blocked by spans of steel and cement with eighteen-wheelers flying overhead.

Barriers To Safe Passage

Obviously, you must avoid bridge pilings and the structure surrounding bridges. But you must also deal with eddies around them, which may affect your steering. Sailboats have particular issues because the wind may change, causing temporary calms or shifts. It is usually imprudent, and often illegal, to use sails to go through a bridge — unless that's your only means of propulsion. The pilings may obstruct vision, which is important regarding oncoming traffic, but also for avoiding small boats that often hang out around the pilings to fish.

Communities often build trailer ramps on one side of bridges. This means that small boats and skiffs may be blithely taking off from behind the pilings, heading into the path of boats coming through the bridge. Whether you're steering around pilings or through a span, all boats must be extra vigilant, using necessary signals and prudent maneuvering. Rules of the Road are very important, not to mention common sense.

Who's On First?

Usually boats must funnel through a particular span of a bridge, which may require opening. Special right-of-way considerations may come into play. For example, if a boat is heading with the current, other boats heading into the current should normally let the boat being pushed come through first. Smaller nimble boats should generally stay out of the way of a large boat with more limited maneuverability. An outboard skiff darting around the bow of a ponderously moving tug and barge may be obscured from view of the pilothouse. This is true anytime, but particularly in areas of restricted maneuverability around a bridge. And what boater can possibly think his engine can never fail at just the wrong time?

Requested Vs. Scheduled

Many bridges must open to let taller boats through. Sometimes these bridges open on request if given proper signal, but many bridges only open at scheduled times. Always signal the bridge for an opening. Signals include horn blasts (usually a long and a short), but most boats call the bridge tender on the VHF. Bridges stand by on channel 9 or 13, depending on location. Call the bridge by its name (e.g., North Landing Bridge, Barefoot Landing Bridge, Seventeenth Street Causeway Bridge). Otherwise the wrong bridge may think you need an opening. Names of bridges and proper VHF channels are best found in updated guidebooks, where you will also find local rules and customs. Be aware that some bridge names may change. For many years, tugs going through the Atlantic Intracoastal Waterway (AICW) swing bridge south of Little River Inlet, South Carolina, called it, melodically, the "Little River Swing" (pronounced "swang.") Now the bridge is named the "Captain Archie Neil 'Poo' McLauchlin Swing Bridge" after a well-known local legend. The captain may be sitting in his favorite establishment watching as you go by.

This sailboat was dismasted by a bridge. Fortunately, no one was injured. (Photo: Mel Neale)

It's often difficult to plan ahead for scheduled bridge openings because typically the current will change in the channel ahead. This is particularly true in areas where inlets or creeks run to larger bodies of water, such as the ocean. A creek may produce current, speeding you along, but as you pass its intersection, the current turns against you. People who simply plug distance to run into a chartplotter are often fooled.

Communication Is Key

Even if the boat ahead of you has requested an opening, you also should request one so that the bridge tender knows how many boats are coming through. We've known bridges to close on boats that haven't properly notified the operator. Often, when the bridge is in the open position, the bridge tender has limited visibility. Going through in a single file line is usually best because boats on the other side may also be coming through and space is limited.

Sometimes a bridge tender will instruct pleasure boats to wait for a tug and barge or other vessels because of that vessel's special needs or space limitation. Pay attention. Keep a VHF tuned to the bridge's operating channel well before you approach the bridge, as well as during the transit, because there may be special issues such as a malfunctioning bridge, a fire/rescue vehicle approaching on the highway, or other problems. If you know in advance, you can slow down and come through when the situation has cleared.

Into The Melee

When you reach a bridge, there may well be a crowd of boating traffic. If the bridge opens only on a schedule or is otherwise restricted (such as bridge work or emergency highway traffic), it is critically important to take into consideration the special maneuvering needs of other boats (including your own) when you're waiting in a crowd. Try to stay clear. For example, often a sailboat will have little control when backing or require a wide turning radius. Large vessels may have very little maneuverability in tight quarters. Often a tug with a barge must simply keep coming, unable to dodge around smaller boats.

Some vessels may have huge windage issues that make steering and positioning very difficult, especially if the wind is blowing across the channel or toward the bridge. Others, such as deep draft vessels, may be susceptible to strong currents pushing them toward the bridge and may need to face away from the bridge into the current or wind until the opening. Then it will have to turn, and there might not be room to do so within its turning radius. And just as boats have different handling characteristics, skippers have different skill levels. We've passed through many bridges over the years, and my favorite tactic is to remain at the end of the line to hopefully avoid trouble. Don't hang too far back, though, because the bridge tender has an obligation to get the highway traffic moving when he can.

To make matters worse, some bridges are situated poorly from a boat operator's perspective. The Wappoo Creek Bridge just south of Charleston, for example, spans a narrow channel that doglegs. The current is immense, and a large boat coming through on a fair tide may have trouble making the turn. And this bridge usually operates on a schedule. Check the charts to get the "lay of the land" long before you approach a bridge.

Watch Out For Power Lines

High-voltage power lines can carry hundreds of thousands of volts across rivers and bays. Power lines that cross navigable waterways are marked on charts with their clearance listed as from the height of mean high water (MHW), which is an average of several years of high tides. If the power lines are near a bridge, their lowest clearances are required to be higher than the bridge. However never take a chance with "close." Floods or surges can diminish the clearance. Also, voltage has been reported to jump from a power line to the mast top even though that mast top may not have actually touched the line. In addition, extremely hot days may cause some sagging, as could wind, lightning, or other damage to the supporting towers.

According to the U.S. Coast Guard, should your boat come in contact with a power line, don't jump into the water. The electrical charge may pass through your boat and electrify the surrounding water. The safest approach is to stay in the boat and avoid touching anything metal. Leave the boat only after it has moved away from the line.

— By Charles Fort

How High Is Too Low

Even if you think your boat's air draft can pass under a bridge, you still may need an opening. The theoretical vertical clearance of fixed bridges on the AICW is 65 feet (except for the 56-foot Julia Tuttle Bridge in Miami). But this is "sometimes." An unusually high tide, flooding from excessive rain, or storm tide can make it less. We've seen sailboats dismasted because they underestimated the clearance. Some sailboats will hang loaded dinghies or heavy jugs of water out to the side on a spinnaker pole and a halyard to cause a heel that will allow them through. (Not a good idea!) Most wisely go out to sea for that part of the passage or wait for sufficiently low water. Other waterways besides the AICW have different height restrictions. For example, 55 feet for the Florida Gulf Intracoastal Waterway and 49 feet for the Okeechobee Waterway.

Extra high tides may mean trouble for tall-masted vessels. (Photo: Mel Neale)

There are usually tide boards at each bridge that show the vertical clearance at the center of the span (or wherever it's the highest), but sometimes these are damaged. It's difficult to "eyeball" vertical clearance. Standing on your deck and looking up creates an optical illusion making the overhead span seem much closer. Sometimes bridge tenders will help, but often they aren't allowed to because of the liability. If you can't clear the span and you're too close to the steel girders, the current or wind may prevent you from stopping in time.

Trawlers and other "short" boats may have a similar problem with a lower bridge, which they would normally need to open. If that bridge is timed, they may want to get under anyway and this requires absolute knowledge of your boat's air draft and the bridge's vertical clearance. The maximum vertical clearance of many bridges is typically at or near the center of the center span, not off to the side, although there are some significant exceptions to this. Bridge tenders sometimes tell captains to lower antennas and outriggers, etc. Requiring an opening just because you don't want to lower your antenna or outrigger isn't lawful.

It Takes Us All To Tango

When a bridge tender does try to be helpful or give you advice, remember that you're the skipper of your boat and are normally ultimately responsible. Many tenders have little actual experience running boats. Some also will become impatient with ignorant or impolite boaters. However, these incidents are not the rule and are often exaggerated. Bridge tenders must juggle many interests, all with the demands of the situation, which can include winds, tides, storms, currents, and poorly trained skippers. If you do have a problem, the U.S. Coast Guard has a "Bridge Office" in each district that you can contact. Typically bridge tenders are anxious to help, many going out of their way to do so. Some are boaters themselves. It takes all of us to make it work.

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Thread starter donelanc
Start date Oct 28, 2015
Oday Owner Forums
Bigger Boats

Hi I was on my last sail of the season; 2 ft seas, 5 to 10 kts w/ little gusts. Was on a starboard close haul when the mast and RF came crashing down on port side; so fast I didn't see what happened. Boat is 1989 272 le mast and rigging was checked by rigging before it went up and all looked good. Mast broke at deck and snapped at the speaders. The genoa and main sail ended under water and lost life lines and stancions on port. Got small dent from mast on port side. No one got hurt. It seems they are going to total the boat which I have put an incredible amount of money and tlc into. Does anyone know where i could get a mast and boom besides Rigrite. I'd like to try to buy the boat back from insurance, but the prices i've gotten for the rigging don't make economical sense. Any feedback appreciated. (used sources would be fine) thanks Paul Beam

Once a vessel has been 'written off '(declared a total loss) by an insurance company it is almost impossible to get insurance on that hull again. I'd be extremely careful about buying a hull that you will have to pay to dispose of if things don't work out.

it sounds as though in exchange for your insurance co's payment of the loss amount agreed between you, they propose to take title to the vessel. why don't they just pay you the cost to repair it and let you keep the boat? find out what they intend to do-- pay you off, then sell it as-is, where is? auction it? it seems to me that a perfectly usable hull should be able to be restored at a reasonable cost. whoever is inclined to do so could put another mast and rigging on it. you may wish to try arbitrating this with BoatUS if that's your carrier.

Wow. Glad no one was injured. I don't know any other source for a 272 mast other than RigRite. It might be worth looking for a beaten up 272 that you could probably purchase for very little, and use it for parts to repair yours. As an aside, do you know the cause of the failure? Did the mast section actually break, or did the rigging pull out or fail?

You shouldn't have to use RigRite. Any mast the right length should work, you just need the right fitting for the deck if deck stepped or the keel if keel stepped to go with the mast. What failed on your mast that it crashed? Others might want to look at the failure potential on their own boats to avoid the same problem. Here's an outfit selling used masts they have one listed for a Cal 27 probably similar size to the 272? http://sailboatwreckingyard.com/

Try Craigslist. I saw a 272 being parted out there recently.

MaritimeTees

2 oday 272's for sale on ebay currently. Paul did the insurance company pay off rather quickly or did they give you a hard time and investigate? What happened to you is my worst nightmare. From your description it sounds like it was mast failure. I insured my boat with foremost and we came to a conclusion if the boat is a total loss currently their payout would be 17,500 and 3,000 in gear if she sinks losing my gear. Chartplotter, tillerpilot,etc..I pay a little more for this insurance which is 30.00 a month then I did in the past. If I run across anything I will let you know.

Here's a mast in your neighborhood for a 27 foot O'day. http://www.massmarineparts.com/197727oday.aspx

The original 27 ft. O'Day had a taller mast and of course, more sail area...I think that would be difficult to make work without a substantial change in sailing characteristics and replacement of the rigging...

thanks pat that's what i thought. What I did find (thank You GREG!) in New Jersey (actually Greg found it) was an 87 272 that a guy was getting divorced and left in boat yard for 6 years Water got into the sole and seized engine but all the rigging is intact. He is asking 2k and I can get for less. I have a good price to have it brought to boston where I'd strip it. I can sell the lead keel for about 800 (40 cents a lb) which will pay for half the shipping. So I might be ok. Greg, if you are reading this, thank you for the lead. I think it saved my butt Paul Beam

Thats great news. Did you ever figure out what the cause of the dismasting was?

Cutting a mast shorter should be easy, changing the mast step might not be. Is that boat keel stepped or deck stepped? Sounds like you have a good plan and a whole boat worth of spares. Good luck with it.

DHaranSailor

jibes138 said: You shouldn't have to use RigRite. Any mast the right length should work, you just need the right fitting for the deck if deck stepped or the keel if keel stepped to go with the mast. What failed on your mast that it crashed? Others might want to look at the failure potential on their own boats to avoid the same problem. Here's an outfit selling used masts they have one listed for a Cal 27 probably similar size to the 272? http://sailboatwreckingyard.com/ Click to expand

I have a mast, boom spreaders, all painted with Imron, and standing rigging for a 28' O'Day you can have if you will pickup. I am located in Northeast Louisiana. These are off of a boat I was rebuilding and have since parted out. I hate to see the go to waste is why they are so cheap.

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“…never lost just hard to find.”

THE FAR NORTH

Tadji and John of John Kretschmer Sailing

Quetzal is sailing to the far north. After delaying the start of “The Big One” a full year, we have exciting and ambitious plans for 2022. For example, in July and August, we have two high latitude passages taking us to Newfoundland, Labrador, Greenland, Iceland, Faroe and Shetland Islands, and Norway.

These challenging voyages are part of what will be another Atlantic Circle for Quetzal. Then, in September we have scheduled a North Sea passage. After that, we will run a heavy weather passage from Southampton to Cadiz, where we rendesvouz with Nathan and Vivian after their busy summer schedule. They are crossing the Atlantic and entering the Med. Finally, the year ends with another heavy weather passage from Cadiz to the Canary Islands sailing together.

Quetzal and Ultima will kick off 2023 with a passage to Cape Verde. Next, both boats will leave together on a trade wind Atlantic crossing. The full 2024 schedule is now published. Clearly Quetzal will be busy, logging blue water miles like she always does, ending the year near the bottom of the world.

Nathan and Vivian of Ocean Passages LLC, have also released their 2025 schedlule. After completing many challenging passages that will left tracks all over the Atlantic, from the Caribbean to Nova Scotia, they are now heading to the South Pacific. Check out their available spots.

CAPTAIN’S HOUR

“ Captain ’s Hour with JK .” is a monthly, informal 2-3 hour meeting that will allow you to ‘pick my brain’ on any sailing subject. Basically, it’s a fun and lively discussion with lots of interaction. This has grown into a great community of sailors all over the world. Each Captain’s Hour not only includes information and stories, but also hard-won expertise.

For more information or to Sign Up, send us a message to receive your invoice and link to Captain’s Hour.

NEW WEBINAR

Atlantic Circle

Thoughts and strategies on how to sail across the atlantic ocean, a two-part webinar series,, may 4 and may 11, 7 -9 est, welcome to john kretschmer sailing.

John Kretschmer's Quetzal beating into the wind

Thank you for venturing into the far flung world of John Kretschmer Sailing. If this is your first time, welcome! Otherwise, many thanks for dropping by again.

It was more than 35 years ago that we beat around Cape Horn in the brave little sloop Gigi. In retrospect, it seems hard to believe. Three summers ago I was able to sail Gigi again in the rugged Outer Hebrides of Scotland. Undeniably, that was a magical experience. Gigi is a time machine. The experience frames the first chapter of my new book, SAILING TO THE EDGE OF TIME: The Promise, the Challenges, and the Freedom of Ocean Voyaging , which was published November 2018. This is the book I’ve been writing my entire life, a memoir that is a mix of sea stories and sailing insights. In essence, it’s a deeply personal account of what it means to go to sea.

A Word from John Kretschmer

My Experience

I have been sailing professionally, if that’s what you call what I do, for all of my adult life. Doing the thing I enjoy most has never felt like a job and I have lost track of how many offshore miles I’ve logged. This summer I completed my 25th and 26th Atlantic crossings. When my sailing odometer ticked over 300,000 I stopped counting. It seems absurd to keep tallying miles, I have nothing to prove and I am not convinced that miles matter very much. Unfortunately, they define sailing as the distance between landfalls as if the land’s edge defines the ocean and our relationship with it. That’s crazy. It’s the in-between that matters. The voyage, the journey–the interlude of being “at sea–that’s where the magic lurks.

The True Rewards

Final Thoughts

Additionally, I am committed to sharing useful information and hard-won opinions about blue water and coastal voyaging. I commit to sharing how to live life on your own terms. It’s no surprise, deep ocean sailing in small boats (and at 47 feet, Quetzal still qualifies as a small boat) offers a powerful blend of promise, challenge, and freedom. Incidentally, that is exactly what my new book’s subtitle claims. Joseph Conrad titled his sailing ship memoir, “The Mirror of the Ocean,” and I love that phrase. There is nowhere to hide at sea and the image that reflects back at you from the face of a steel blue wave is brutally honest. Therefore, to thrive at sea you must take stock of who you are, not who you want to be. There’s no pretending out there.

About Our Passages

Lastly, many thanks to you, our shipmates and friends. You not only make all of our voyages and projects possible, you also make them fulfilling. The world of Quetzal is a full-blown, world-wide nautical community and we love sharing it with you. It’s time–time to go sailing, time to go to sea–and we look forward to welcoming you aboard.

The Sailing Schedule is posted here.

Webinars Are Now Available for Purchase

New Two-part live webinar Atlantic Circle –Thoughts and Strategies on How to Sail Across the Atlantic Ocean on May 4th & May 11th at 7:00 p.m. EDT

The pre-recorded webinars are available.

The Seamanship Series Webinars that aired live in June 2020, are available for purchase. Individually, each 2+ hour webinar sells for $40. However, when you buy all four for $150, you will also receive the 24 pages of questions and answers that followed the live broadcasts. You will receive a link and can watch them whenever you want.

The two-part Cruising Boat Buyers Webinars is also available for $100.

The webinars are informative, yet entertaining. We had a great response and lots of positive feedback afterward. If interested shoot us off an email and Tadji will send the invoice and Zoom link promptly.

As most of you know, I am a hands-on, human to human person. However, I have also discovered, after recently participating in podcasts, webinars, and YouTube videos, that it’s fun and rewarding to reach a wide audience virtually.

Most importantly, it’s a way to stay in contact with each other and discuss something we all love–offshore sailing. While these webinars are not a replacement for the workshops, they definitely enhance them.

New Sailing Opportunities!

Nathan and Vivian’s 2024 Sailing schedule aboard Ultima, is now available! With a complete refit behind them and several challenging training passages scheduled for 2024, Ultima and her crew are off to a great start. And they’re really excited about heading to the South Pacific this year.

I strongly urge you to check out their schedule and meet these wonderful sailors.

My latest book Sailing to the Edge of Time: The Promise, the Challenges, and the Freedom of Ocean Voyaging is available now.

“This book reminds me of Joseph Conrad’s first book The Mirror of the Sea, which was a memoir from his life as a ship captain and a reflection on what a life at sea can teach an observant and thoughtful person. Kretsch just may be our own modern-day Conrad, which in my book is no small thing.”

~George Day, Blue Water Sailing Magazine

Sailing through the wilderness: Interview with John Kretschmer

I first sailed with John in 2006. I was a great lakes sailor for many years and had the urge to try sailing in open waters. Looking for an easy way to do this, I saw a three line ad in the back of a sailing magazine for an open water passage-making opportunity. I called the number in the ad and spoke with John. That was the beginning of the many sailing experiences I’ve had with him. For me, sailing with John is an excellent way to get out on the open water.

My Sailing Experience

I’ve been on eleven sailing trips so far (with more to come), and most of them were on Quetzal, John’s boat. We’ve been in all kinds of weather from warm sunny days with following trade winds to battering storm conditions on the Atlantic. These trips gave me an outstanding exposure to open water sailing and what that can entail in all types of weather conditions. John’s experience is always in evidence but it really stands out when the going gets rough. His concern with the crew’s safety is paramount. Sailing in heavy weather conditions proved to me just how safe and solid Quetzal is. She is truly passage proven and I understand why John is so fond of her. Heck, over time I’ve formed quite a bond with her too.

What I Experienced with John

John promotes a relaxed atmosphere on his passages. There’s no rigid daily lesson plan that one must follow but there are learning opportunities galore. John gladly spends time with each person answering questions or helping them bone up on their navigational skills. And when he’s not answering questions from the crew, John has entertaining stories he loves to share during captain’s hour and at dinner.

The sailing passages I’ve been on include: three transatlantic sails, two Mediterranean voyages as well as these wonderful passages: Ireland and Scotland; Panama to the Galapagos to Costa Rica; Gulf of St. Lawrence; Newfoundland; Caribbean; Isla Mujeres to Florida; and of course that great canal boat trip in France.

I can’t recommend enough going on a passage with John. You will have an outstanding time, learn much, have great conversations, meet wonderful people and eat well. Oh, and one last thing, you must try Tadji’s canal boat cruises – they are simply a gastric delight and you’ll visit some stunning locations.

Passage Notes

Best travel books of 2020… so far, covid-19 update, star weather routing.

A Serious Ocean

by Anne Stevenson

You know it by the northern look of the shore, by the salt-worried faces, by an absence of trees, an abundance of lighthouses. It’s a serious ocean.

North Sea off Carnoustie

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Let's Communiciate

Please email [email protected] for all inquiries. Let us know if you want to:

Sign up for an offshore training passage with John or Nathan & Vivian. Although our passages are often fully booked, cancellations do occur. Our waitlist is dynamic and we reach out via email when openings occur.
Join our email list to receive updates and announcements
Sign Up for Captain’s Hour
Watch an Online Webinar
Attend a Workshop
Reach out if you have any other questions

We’d love to connect with you!

Thank you to the continual support of our sponsors!

IMAGES

Dismasted at Sea: What To Do (During & After)
Sailboat Dismasted by Tanker in Viral Video Sailed Too Close
MITHRAL broken mast sailboat bellingham dismasted high wind inside
Dismasted at sea: What to do during and after a dismasting
Dismasted at Sea: What To Do (During & After)
Dismasted at Sea: What To Do (During & After)

VIDEO

On a sailboat!!
Boat
A BOAT?!
NEWSFLASH: Yacht Team Holcim PRB DISMASTED in the Ocean Race Day 4. All Safe
What kind of boat is this?
Another boat day #boat

COMMENTS

Dismasted at sea: What to do during and after a dismasting
Dos and Don'ts. Do: Preserve everything you can - boom, lines, sails, blocks, clips etc. Rig loss claims are huge: ours was a £55,000 claim which didn't include the boom or sails that we ...
Dismasted at Sea: What To Do (During & After)
The first example that comes to mind is a 50 foot lagoon catamaran that was dismasted in Hurricane Florence. The boat had just received a complete overhaul and was being prepped for charter work, a logical use for such a grand vessel, given the tourism economy of coastal Carolina. She was at the dock in the storm and from all accounts had a ...
How do you manage your sailboat when dismasting?
This winter the Class 40 Crosscall was overturned by a wave off the Azores. The boat made a 360 and the mast pierced the cockpit creating a huge waterway. The boat remained between two waters for 11 hours before the two skippers were rescued by a Portuguese Navy helicopter.. Prevent to avoid dismasting. In order for a sailboat to dismast, one part of the rigging must be loose.
What are the factors that lead to a dismasting?
Reading the conditions he was in in and the report that said "dismasted, lost steering and is has a hatch that is broken and leaking" and in the Southern Ocean I am thinking he got caught by a rogue wave and rolled the boat. That would also account for the dmamged steering and the broken hatch. My heart goes out to him and his family.
Snap, shackle and drop: coping with a dismasted sailing yacht
This watch system provides good rest periods as well as whole crew mealtimes together. The first 24 hours aboard were standard stuff, the weather varied from Force 4 to Force 6 and progress was steady. Ruby May 's voyage until the sailing yacht was dismasted. Sweepstakes for arrival ranged from Tuesday night to Wednesday evening.
Safety at Sea: Managing a Dismasting
Safety at Sea: Managing a Dismasting. After a dismasting off the coast of the Carolinas, the crew of Distant Drummer thought they'd made all the right moves. Then things got interesting. By By David White. Updated: January 7, 2021. Big boat, little boat: Though Distant Drummer is 68-feet, she looked like a dinghy alongside the 1,000-foot tanker.
Dismasting
Action at sea, a French frigate completely dismasted, by Robert Dodd. Dismasting, also spelled demasting, occurs to a sailing ship when one or more of the masts responsible for hoisting the sails that propel the vessel breaks. Dismasting usually occurs as the result of high winds during a storm acting upon masts, sails, rigging, and spars.
Dismasted offshore: how one man got his boat home
Katy Stickland. February 8, 2022. 0 shares. When Jock Hamilton's 33ft Wauquiez Gladiateur dismasted offshore, 500 miles from land, he created a jury rig using a Laser dinghy mast, sails and oars, before sailing 1,500 miles home. Jock arriving home in Tighnabruaich after sailing 1,500 miles under jury rig. Credit: Jock Hamilton.
Found: Sailboat From Teen's Abandoned Round-the-World Attempt
Abby Sunderland's boat was dismasted in the Indian Ocean in 2010 during her controversial bid to become the youngest to circumnavigate the world solo. Jason Daley. Correspondent.
What to do in a dismasting, hints tips and real life experience of a
Having recently been dismasted off the NW coast of France, I have been asked lots of questions from fellow sailors about what it was like; what we would do differently; what worked well; what didn't; how could they prepare.To address some of these questions and hopefully help you prepare should you ever been unfortunate enough to find yourself in this situation, I've covered all of the ...
Simpson Dismasted 700 miles from Shore
Feb 12, 2024. At 0230 UTC on February 11, Ronnie Simpson's Shipyard Brewing dismasted in the South Atlantic. The boat, which was one of the remaining 12 entrants in the inaugural Global Solo Challenge, had been plagued by boat-breaking conditions since rounding Cape Horn nine days earlier. Simpson was in third place at the time of the incident.
DISMASTED 30 MILES OFFSHORE: The scariest day of my life
Watch the crazy SLOW MOTION footage of the mast and sails falling into the water, and then our 22-hour adrenaline-fueled journey back to safety. We were dism...
Ep 15: Dismasted on the Atlantic Ocean
Whilst sailing to the Azores the mast breaks...Enjoy the video!www.mjambo.de Facebook: M Jambo Sailing Instagram: martin_jamboTip Box: PayPal.Me/mjambosailin...
Dismasted sailboat needs a fuel drop off
Chili Palmer. 122 posts · Joined 2012. #7 · Dec 28, 2023. MarkofSeaLife said: That's not the Indian Ocean. That's the Southern Ocean. 1000 nautical miles south of Madagascar, 1600 miles from Cape Town and over 3000 miles from Western Australia. The Crozet Islands were around 300 miles to his south.
Sailboat gets Dismasted!
Captain David describes why & how his sailboat suddenly got dismasted without warning, while under sail in moderate winds. Hear Captain David describe what ...
Safety at Sea: Dismasted on the Atlantic
Safety at Sea: Dismasted on the Atlantic. After losing the rig on their classic yawl, this couple devises a jury rig and makes it safely to the Azores. Prepare yourself," called Micha as he scrambled past, thrusting one arm through his foul-weather jacket as he dashed out into the cockpit.
Crash Test Boat
For the Crash Test Boat dismasting, we had gale force winds in the Solent. We needed at least 20 knots of wind for this test. We set out from Lymington with a forecast WSW Force 5-7, occasionally 8. Bramblemet was recording a steady 30 knots. Despite wind-with-tide, we thought it would be more than enough.
The Right Way To Navigate Bridges
We've seen sailboats dismasted because they underestimated the clearance. Some sailboats will hang loaded dinghies or heavy jugs of water out to the side on a spinnaker pole and a halyard to cause a heel that will allow them through. (Not a good idea!) Most wisely go out to sea for that part of the passage or wait for sufficiently low water.
Trying to figure out what to do with my dismasted sailboat
To start, I'm not trying to sell it; I mostly want advice regarding how to deal with an old dismasted boat and I haven't had much luck finding info about this on the internet. She's a 16 foot Hutchins com-pac and I've been sailing her since I was about twelve. I taught myself how to sail on that boat and I was very sad to see her dismasted in ...
John Kretschmer's Darkest Hour at Sea
Sailing a Serious Ocean—Sailboats, Storms, Stories and Lessons Learned from 30 Years at Sea is published by International Marine. $24, yayablues.com. Over his three decades of ocean voyaging, author John Kretschmer has been in more than his fair share of heavy weather. In this excerpt from his new book, Sailing a Serious Ocean—Sailboats ...
Dismasted!
It seems I went out in a little more wind than my '76 O'Day 22 could handle, and ended up dismasted. Fortunately, with three young men on board, we were able to easily retrieve the mast out of the water, noone was hurt, and noone was in danger of much more than getting wet. We strapped the...
Dismasted
Dismasted. Thread starter donelanc; Start date Oct 28, 2015; Forums. Oday Owner Forums. ... From your description it sounds like it was mast failure. I insured my boat with foremost and we came to a conclusion if the boat is a total loss currently their payout would be 17,500 and 3,000 in gear if she sinks losing my gear. Chartplotter ...
John Kretschmer Sailing
Thoughts and Strategies on How to Sail Across the Atlantic Ocean A two-part Webinar Series, May 4 and May 11, 7 -9 EST. Read More. Welcome to John Kretschmer Sailing. Thank you for venturing into the far flung world of John Kretschmer Sailing. If this is your first time, welcome! Otherwise, many thanks for dropping by again.
This Is The Coolest Sailboat Race That You've Probably Never ...
Ronnie Simpson's entry in the Global Solo Challenge was dismasted in the southern ocean. ... "Starting with an old, funky boat and no money, I managed to get to the starting line and become a ...